


Sleeves Will Go Ragged

by Phantoms_and_Foxgloves



Series: The End and The Beginning [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Slow Burn, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 93,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28153134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantoms_and_Foxgloves/pseuds/Phantoms_and_Foxgloves
Summary: The hospital. Was this real? Was he really back at the start?All those mistakes, every person he’d lost, killed, driven away…He stood and stared at his face in the mirror, a face younger and more innocent than the one he’d seen in Alexandria’s mirrors, in the prison’s dusty windows, even in the station house that first time. He watched his features harden, the eyes sink and the brow furrow. He watched determination settle over him like a blanket of snow, chilling him to an icy resolve.Screw it.If there was even a chance he could do this all over again things were going to go goddamn different.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Series: The End and The Beginning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062524
Comments: 665
Kudos: 830





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Welcome to a random little fic I’ve put together to try and get my writing juices flowing again. As you will have noticed I’m an absolute devil for starting fics and not finishing them for ages, if at all. So this is a little challenge to myself to get through a whole story in under 6 months, starting today. I know that doesn’t seem like that big of a goal but considering my other fics have taken literal years and still aren’t done, I consider 6 months a challenge before the whole human race, and I ain’t gonna lose! Real life problems, lack of inspo, don’t care! I’ve got 6 months to finish this thing and that’s that.
> 
> I used to love TWD, but lost interest right around the time Negan was introduced. I was already on the fence with Rick’s weird infatuation with Jessie, which just made no sense to me at all. Then that bat met Glenn’s head and I threw my hands up and said “I’m out!” Having recently stumbled on a few fics in the time-travel fix-it vein I thought it would be a fun idea to try one.
> 
> Since this isn’t a fandom I’m hugely familiar with it’s been interesting to explore the tropes and pairings in it. The pairing I’ve settled on as making the most sense is Rick/Daryl. I actually thought the Rick/Michonne pairing was quite good in the show, since she was definitely on equal footing with him in terms of skills and leading the group. She was just as badass, just as straightforward, and just as willing to put aside personal shit for the good of the group as Rick, if not more. However, I just didn’t really feel any chemistry between the two of them. Since the only other female character that in my opinion could possibly stand toe-to-toe with Rick was Maggie and I’m not a dirty homewrecker, I’ve decided Rick/Daryl is the direction I’m going. They respect each other, value, each other, and compliment each other in everything they do.
> 
> As usual with me, this is going to be a slow, slow burn. So sit back, get some popcorn and a cup of tea and get ready to get incredibly frustrated with how long it takes these two to get their shit together!
> 
> As always, feedback is life and welcome to the show!

“Daryl!” Rick’s voice scraped up his throat like razors, a dry rasp in the eerily silent room. He blinked, trying to focus his painfully dry eyes on the smudge of blue against the blinding white.

A vase.

An ugly blue-patterned vase full of dead flowers.

He blinked.

The hospital. He tilted his head down, ignoring the terrifying weakness of his neck to take in the faded polka-dot hospital gown, the wires and tubes running in and out of his body. He started to shake, his breath coming too fast. What was happening?

He tried to think.

He was in Alexandria. A grey-green dawn lit up the destruction, the bodies lying broken and bloody everywhere he looked. He was covered in bites, at least a dozen, the fever already pumping through his veins and threatening to overwhelm him. Michonne was dead, ripped apart as she tried to pull Carl away from the hoarde with Judith in his arms.

Carl. Judith.

They were all dead. Every single one of them.

Maggie, Tara, and Abraham. Sasha and Rosita. Morgan had gone down under a sea of grabbing, skeletal hands. Aaron had screamed as they dragged him apart with their teeth. Carol had shrieked in blinding rage as they hauled her to the ground. Eugene, Gabriel. Everyone.

The walls of Alexandria hadn’t kept out the invaders, hadn’t even slowed them down. Those demented assholes had just blown a hole in it and let the walkers in, herded them through to do their dirty work. Rick didn’t even know who they were, why they wanted Alexandria destroyed. They’d given no warning, to attempt to barter or sneak their way inside the walls. They’d just rained hell down and laughed wildly as they watched.

Rick remembered looking up as the first walker bit into him, hearing a shout of joy as it happened. A dark-haired man sat on the wall, his elbows resting on his knees and a crazy glint in his eye as he laughed and laughed. It had sent a chill through the pit of Rick’s stomach, worse than the teeth that clamped onto his calf. Whoever these people were they were evil. And they’d killed Rick’s whole family.

It was later, when his strength had almost run out along with his blood, that he realized the one person he hadn’t seen, the one body he hadn’t found, was Daryl’s. Daryl was still out there. Rick’s lips split bloody around a smile as he pictured Daryl lopping off heads and putting bolts through eye sockets. Indestructible as ever.

As the sun rose properly, baking the stinking sea of corpses beneath it, Rick lay there on top of someone else’s body - or at least most of someone’s body - waiting for the walkers to finally notice he was still alive. After a while - an hour, a day maybe - he heard something other than the groans of the dead. A squelch, a crunch, a corpse hitting the ground. Someone was dropping walkers around him. He dragged his eyes open, his vision faded and dark, to find Daryl standing over him.

The hunter was weeping. One sleeve had been burned off and the skin of is arm was blistered and raw. His nose was broken and blood poured from a wound in his side. He was covered in gore, so disgusting the dead couldn’t tell him from one of their own.

“Hey, Daryl.” Rick croaked.

Daryl blinked. He dropped to his knees beside Rick, one big hand fluttering helplessly against Rick’s cheek.

“Rick?” his voice was a broken wheeze.

“Indestructible.” Rick murmured.

“Rick.” Daryl bent his shaggy head, pressing his forehead to Rick’s. Rick grasped the back of the hunter’s head with weak fingers and for once Daryl didn’t flinch away. “The hell, man?”

“Bit.” Rick chuckled and it hurt. He was burning up. “A lot.”

Daryl snorted against his cheek. “You dumb sonovabitch.” He muttered, his thumb swiping the blood out of Rick’s eye. “You gonna go and die on me?”

“Seems to be the fashion.” Rick agreed, casting about with eyes that would no longer focus at the carnage around them. He was so far beyond heartbroken it was almost funny. Maybe it was the blood loss but he couldn’t be angry or hurt or afraid anymore. He was just here. “You get the pricks?” he asked. He couldn’t see but he felt Daryl nod against him.

“They’re dead.” Daryl husked. “Killed every last damn one of ‘em. Didn’t do no one no good.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Rick laughed and cried out as the motion jostled his busted ribs.

“Rick!” Daryl cursed and Rick was glad he couldn’t see Daryl’s face anymore. He didn’t want to see the broken light of loss and hurt.

“Jus’ you now.” Rick choked as blood welled up in the back of his throat. “Gotta survive.”

“Why?” Daryl’s skin was back, his nose pressing into Rick’s hairline as his mouth moved against Rick’s brow. “Ain’t no point, now.”

“Bullshit.” Rick’s voice broke around the word. “Daryl…” he wanted to say so much more. He wanted to tell Daryl that he had to fucking make it; that if Rick died and Daryl gave up Rick would haunt his ass to hell and back; that he was family damnit and he had to make it for all their family that didn’t. He wanted to say all of that but his voice wouldn’t obey him anymore.

“Rick?” Daryl breathed into his skin. Rick could feel him sit up, dragging Rick’s hand tangled in his hair with him. “Rick!?”

He tried to say something, anything, to keep that panicked note out of Daryl’s tone but the best he could manage was a weak flexing of his fingers against the back of Daryl’s head. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn't _breathe…_

Rick rolled to the side just in time to vomit over the railing of the bed. There was nothing in his stomach but bile that sliced at his already destroyed throat, but he couldn’t stop. It hit the tile floor with a wet splat and he groaned, pressing his head into the metal rail.

It had all ended bloody. Of course it had. But what the hell was he doing back here? Was this some weird transition to the afterlife? A greatest hits reel of all the worst mistakes he’d made since the world ended. He looked around, wondering if maybe an angel or a demon or something would pop out and list off all his worst sins, but nothing happened. His gut roiled again and he clenched his fingers over it, wincing as it pulled on his IV.

He looked down at the yellowed tape holding it in and grimaced. The veins in the back of his hand were purpled and itchy, probably infected from having the damn thing in there so long. With clenched teeth he slowly pulled it free, pressing down with two fingers as the blood welled up behind it. He went to swing his legs over the side of the bed and paused, remembering the painful mistake he’d made last time.

Catheter.

After a few deep breaths and a stern internal lecture to remind himself all the crap much worse than this he’d gone through over the last few years, he slowly dragged the catheter free, wincing as he dropped it onto the bed. At least he hadn’t had enough solid food to shit himself while he was out. He stood, the walls warping around him just like last time, and made his way over to the sink. It was hard not to gulp down water by the gallon but he knew it would just come back up so he forced himself to sip slowly and think.

The hospital. Was this real? Was he really back at the start?

All those mistakes, every person he’d lost, killed, driven away…

He stood and stared at his face in the mirror, a face younger and more innocent than the one he’d seen in Alexandria’s mirrors, in the prison’s dusty windows, even in the station house that first time. He watched his features harden, the eyes sink and the brow furrow. He watched determination settle over him like a blanket of snow, chilling him to an icy resolve.

Screw it.

If there was even a chance he could do this all over again things were going to go goddamn _different._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this piece is taken from the poem The End and the Beginning, written by Wisława Szymborska and translated by Joanna Trzeciak. 
> 
> After every war  
> someone has to clean up.  
> Things won’t  
> straighten themselves up, after all.
> 
> Someone has to push the rubble  
> to the side of the road,  
> so the corpse-filled wagons  
> can pass.
> 
> Someone has to get mired  
> in scum and ashes,  
> sofa springs,  
> splintered glass,  
> and bloody rags.
> 
> Someone has to drag in a girder  
> to prop up a wall.  
> Someone has to glaze a window,  
> rehang a door.
> 
> Photogenic it’s not,  
> and takes years.  
> All the cameras have left  
> for another war.
> 
> We’ll need the bridges back,  
> and new railway stations.  
> Sleeves will go ragged  
> from rolling them up.
> 
> Someone, broom in hand,  
> still recalls the way it was.  
> Someone else listens  
> and nods with unsevered head.  
> But already there are those nearby  
> starting to mill about  
> who will find it dull.
> 
> From out of the bushes  
> sometimes someone still unearths  
> rusted-out arguments  
> and carries them to the garbage pile.
> 
> Those who knew  
> what was going on here  
> must make way for  
> those who know little.  
> And less than little.  
> And finally as little as nothing.
> 
> In the grass that has overgrown  
> causes and effects,  
> someone must be stretched out  
> blade of grass in his mouth  
> gazing at the clouds.


	2. Head Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, I don’t have a beta and rarely can be bothered to proof-read well. Any mistakes are entirely my own and there’s already some doozies in here, I’m sure. Feedback is love, feedback is life!

Taking it slow was a challenge. Rick had often wondered over the years how in the hell he had managed not to get himself killed in the first few hours, stumbling around like an idiot without a weapon, a pair of shoes, or a goddamn clue about what was going on. But despite the years of training and experience in his head his body was still fresh off a coma and barely functioning. He made himself drink and nap on and off for the rest of the day, ignoring the gnawing hunger in his belly and trying to come up with a plan.

Morgan. He’d have to get to Morgan but before that the hospital itself was a treasure trove so early in the disaster. Antibiotics, bandages, painkillers, antiseptic… the list went on and on. There were military outside, tactical bags and backpacks he could fill with supplies. Boots and tough clothing. There had to be vending machines full of non-perishable foods somewhere. If he moved quickly and quietly he could give himself one hell of a head start before he escaped to find his friend. He forced himself to lay back down when it got dark, trusting the barricade that had kept him safe this whole time.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep like he had so many nights on the road, but all he could do was remember the last days. Everyone he loved. Everyone he had fought so hard to keep alive, who had fought so hard for him. They’d all died. Horribly.

Everyone except Daryl, that is. He smiled through the tears as he thought of the hunter, the toughest of all of them. The bastards couldn’t kill him. His heart twisted as he realised what that meant: Daryl had been left alone.

“Shit.” Rick hissed and tried to duck down deeper into the stiff bed.

That was every single one of their worst fears: being the only one to come out the other end alive. They’d all accepted somewhere along the way that they were going to die bloody and screaming. That was just how it was nowadays - or back then, or soon. He didn’t dwell too much on the actual timeline for fear his head would explode. No, getting ripped to shreds wasn’t the bad option. Watching everyone you loved get murdered, eaten, beaten down and torn up, being the only one left to carry that around in your head and heart with no one left to fight for, that was the real hell.

And of all people, Daryl.

Fresh tears hit the pillow as he thought of Daryl alone and empty, wandering without a purpose after all of them were gone. That man loved fiercer than a goddamn wildcat and sucked at showing it. Would he open himself up to hurt again like that? It had taken him years the first time around. Would he have had the strength to try again?

Rick shook his head. “Course he would.” He hissed into the pillowcase. “Tough motherfucker. Too tough to give up, always.”

He wondered if once he got to his family again Daryl would remember, too. Would anyone? Surely all that time and all that suffering had to leave a mark. He wasn’t sure if he hoped it did or not. Would he spare his family all the shit they’d gone through, knowing that it had made them stronger each time? He didn’t know.

“I’ll find ya.” He promised the darkness around him. “I’ll find all of ya. Y’ain’t gonna be alone.”

* * * * *

The next morning he put his plan into action. He woke just as light was creeping in the window and got straight to work, the urgency he’d put aside yesterday running back up on him immediately. First he took his drip stand apart to give himself a sturdy aluminum spear, stretched his sore joints as much as he could to test out his range of motion, and drank a bit more. A quick sweep of the room showed him a pair of sweats he’d missed the first time around and he slid into them gratefully, glad he wouldn’t be fighting walkers with his ass in the wind. No shoes or socks but he would be able to steal some he was sure. Moving the barricade was as much of a bitch as last time with his kitten-weak muscles but he slipped out into the hall as quietly as he could manage. He paused, listening for the shuffling and hissing moans that would lead him to the chained door he’d seen before.

Nothing.

His memory of the last time was fuzzy, too clogged with terror to give him any sort of reliable map of the building. Slowly, carefully, he slunk around the floor he was on and took in as much as he could. He found a single walker, its scuzzy uniform telling him the guy had once been some kind of janitor as he stabbed it in the head. He found a ring of keys with a little LED flashlight on it and stole the guy’s shoes. They were too tight but better than getting glass in his feet. By what he figured was noon he’d managed to clear most of the floor and find a stash of pudding cups to replenish his blood sugar. He smiled as he slipped a few into the plastic bag he was using to collect stuff, promising himself he’d save them for Carl.

It turned out that knowing Carl was safe at the quarry did nothing to dampen the need to find him. There was nothing to say that things would happen the same way as last time, particularly if anyone else remembered. Would Shane keep them at the quarry if he knew Rick was coming? Would Merle go on a rampage over how they’d treated him? What if he went after T-Dogg? What if he took Daryl and split? Rick shook his head to clear it of those thoughts. Nothing he could do about all that until he found them.

Rick figured he had a few hours until sundown when he finally left the hospital behind, a military pack stuffed with drugs and supplies on his back and a pair of size ten combat boots on his feet. They were wet from the hose-down he’d given them but somehow the hot Georgia sun had baked the body they’d belonged to enough to partially mummify the feet rather than turn them to jell-o. He’d been clear-headed enough this time to check the military helicopter and cars, finding an absolute wealth of weapons. He figured as he went that this was where Morgan had stocked up half his arsenal when he’d gone off the deep end after Duane.He’d tried to pick the most useable things and ended up with a second bag full of guns and ammo, more than he’d looted from the Sherriff’s office the first time around.

He was weaker than he’d thought and had to take breaks as he headed across town towards his old house, drinking frequently from the bottles of gatorade he’d found in the cafeteria. He knew he had to take it easier, had to be careful and keep his eyes sharp. He would be too weak to fight more than a handful of walkers.

When he got to his street something in his belly crunched painfully. He hadn’t even thought about the old house in years, the place where he had been happy. This was the house where Carl had learned to walk. That curb there, littered with abandoned newspapers and covered in a thick layer of pollen was where he’d learned to ride his bike, Rick pushing as Lori cheered him on. As Rick stepped up on the overgrown lawn he looked up at the window, the bedroom where he’d read Carl his favorite books. He’d loved Lori in this house. He’d laughed with Shane, with his parents before they died.

He tightened his grip on his bag and pushed through the door. This time he ignored the wreckage. He didn’t curl up in a ball on the floor, crying like a child. Sure felt like it, though. He didn’t have time for that anymore. He went straight to the cabinet where the python was stored and got her out, changed into his own clothes and put a thick pair of winter socks on. He dug his old cowboy boots out of the closet and shoved them on, storing the military boots in the gun bag for later. He and Glenn were the same size and if he remembered right the kid had been running around in tennis shoes the first few months. Nearly cost him his toes more than a few times. Rick’s boots had served him well for years, making up for his damned bowlegs and tough enough to repel teeth and all sorts. He shoved them on and strapped on his gun belt.

With his holster on his hip he felt more like himself finally. He combed the house, picking out all those helpful little things he’d thought of through the years before. He fished the lighter he’d taken off Shane that time he finally convinced him to give up smoking out of the back of the kitchen drawer. Every single knife sharper than a butterknife went into the bag, that old hunting knife with the antler handle his dad had given him when he turned sixteen getting a place on his belt. Every bottle of pain killer, every can and packet of food he could fit went into his backpack. Even the spongebob bandaids tucked in the back of the medicine cabinet went in. The bag was bursting at the seams but he hoisted it over his back and ignored the burning pain in his wounded shoulder.

“Time to go.” He whispered, looking around at the last remnants of the man he used to be, the life he used to have.

It was easier than it probably should have been to walk out of the house.

* * * * *

He found Duane outside Morgan’s place, sitting on the stoop staring down the street in the opposite direction. Rick let out a low whistle, not wanting to startle the kid. Duane’s head snapped up and Rick flinched at his wide-eyed fear.

“Daddy!” he shouted and Rick winced. First priority was going to be teaching Duane to watch his volume. He needed to stay alive this time around, have a shot at living. That wasn’t going to happen with him hollering for his dad every time trouble rounded the corner.

Morgan appeared around the side of the house, a bat in hand and looking younger than Rick remembered him. He gulped at the sight of Rick, in his weekend flannel and black jeans, half an arsenal in one hand and the python on his hip. Rick did his best to look harmless. By the way Duane scurried behind his father he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Morgan!” Rick’s call was low and mellow, carrying just far enough to hit his friend.

Morgan blinked, then scowled.“We ain’t want no trouble here, mister!” he barked, too loud. Rick dipped into a half-squat, glancing around quick to make sure nothing had been drawn by the noise.

He sighed and looked his friend up and down. The coldness in his eyes, the aggression. The fear. Morgan didn’t remember him. “Morgan.” He repeated, lost. “It’s me. It’s Rick.”

Was he really the only one? How? Why?

“Mister, I ain’t never seen you before in my life.” Morgan growled, hefting his bat but not stepping forward with it. He knew he was outmatched but he wasn’t going to roll over belly-up either, not with Duane to protect. “You best be movin’ on.”

Rick chewed his lip, wondering what in the hell to do. He sure as shit wasn’t leaving Morgan behind, not letting Duane turn and Morgan go crazy.

“Look, Morgan,” he began, dropping the bag of guns and putting his hands up. “I know you don’t remember me, but I gotta talk to you. It’s to keep you and Duane alive, I swear!”

“Daddy, he’s got a badge.” Duane whispered too-loud. He pointed to the gold star on Rick’s belt - Rick had remembered how much time and respect that had bought him with strangers in these first few months and put it on at the house.

“That’s right, Duane.” Rick smiled. “I’m a Sherriff’s deputy. And I’m here to help you and your daddy.”

Morgan glared and shoved Duane further behind him, grip tightening on the bat.

“Take the guns.” Rick offered. “I’ll put my sidearm in there, too.” Slowly, watching Morgan’s every move, he pulled the python from his belt and placed it on top of his weapons duffle, the knife on his belt getting laid alongside.

“You’re crazy.” Morgan snorted as Rick stepped away from the bag and Rick bit back a chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” He admitted. From Morgan on more than a couple occasions. “But I know you wouldn’t kill an unarmed man. I know you’ll listen to me, hear me out. You gotta. You ain’t gonna kill me, Morgan. So let’s just talk, okay?”

Morgan stared at him a while longer, chewing on the corner of his mouth before he handed the bat to Duane. Duane took it and Rick had a sudden flash of the boy standing over him with a shovel last time. He reminded himself not to underestimate the boy, not to crowd him. Morgan jumped off the porch and squatted down beside the duffle, keeping one eye on Rick the whole way. He unzipped it and his eyebrows shot up his forehead as he took in the AKs and automatics, the clips and clips and clips and the dozen or so utility fighting knives picked off dead marines.

“Duane,” Rick said but kept his stare on Morgan. “Your daddy saved my life once, hell, more than once. And right now he’s about the oldest friend I got left.” He didn’t think of Shane, didn’t try to decide if Shane could still be called that. “I gotta talk to him and it’s getting dark, so if you will grab this bag off my back and take it inside he can keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t do anything fishy.”

Duane’s face was pinched with fear as he said “Daddy?”

Morgan stared at Rick, something ticking along behind his eyes before he finally stood up. He had the python in one hand, the duffle in the other. “You put that pack down mister and step away.” Rick felt a bite of fear. If Morgan turned him away… “Duane.” Morgan jerked his head and the boy scurried forward, doing as Rick had asked.

Rick smiled and swung his arms free of the straps. He bit back a holler and dropped to his knees as the left one scraped across his gunshot wound and immediately Morgan was on him. The barrel of the python was against his temple and he could feel Morgan’s hands shaking.

“What’s your wound?” Morgan demanded and Rick laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was all so familiar. Only this time he knew what to say.

“I ain’t bit.” He promised. He could still feel the teeth ripping into him before, the wild scream of terror he’d let out. He shoved it out of his mind. “Gunshot.”

“Lemme see.” Morgan insisted.

Rick nodded, peeling his shirt away from his shoulder to show Morgan the fresh bandage he’d clumsily applied that morning.

“Take it off.” Morgan told him and Rick sighed.

“Sure, but I’m gonna do it slow cause we ain’t got bandages enough to keep replacing it. There’s some tape in the front pouch of that bag your boy’s got. You’re gonna have to help me get it back on.” Rick said, peeling away the tape and wincing as it pulled at his chest hair. Morgan didn’t say a word, just watched and waited. When Rick could pull the gauze down enough to show him the ugly, puckered wound Morgan finally inhaled.

“Right.” He said, nodding to himself. “Y’got any others?”

“No.” Rick said. “And I’ll let you check that with your own eyes later. Right now we gotta get inside and I gotta explain a few things to you.”

Morgan hauled him to his feet and soon they were inside, seated around the rickety table Morgan had set up with a camp lantern. Rick waited while Morgan boarded the door back up and Duane watched him from the bottom of the stairs, pressing the gauze back into his shoulder to stop the sluggish bleeding he’d caused. Morgan finally came over and dug the medical tape out of Rick’s pack and secured the dressing again, then sat back in the other chair and looked him over.

“How is it you know me?” he asked, his eyes dark and suspicious. Rick marvelled for a moment how much the man’s face had changed over the years. Not just the graying beard or deeper, care-worn wrinkles Rick had grown used to, but the way his face moved. The Morgan he knew years from now was like calm water, his expressions flowing one into the next with peaceful care. This Morgan was brash and expressive, all harsh lines and lightning reactions. Rick would have to be careful not to expect this man to react like the man he had once been.

Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to decide how to say this. He glanced over at Duane who peered back from between the spindles of the bannister, thinking.

“I don’t mean to scare your boy, Morgan.” He said finally. “But I got some things to say to you that are gonna be hard to hear. You want him hearing them, too? Before you know what they are?”

Anger flashed across Morgan’s face but Rick didn’t rise to it. He wasn’t threatening the child. He was just giving Morgan fair warning. After a moment Morgan’s face relaxed and he looked over at his son.

“Duane?” he said, clearing his throat and drumming his fingers nervously on the table. “I want you to take that bat and head on upstairs. You lock yourself in the bedroom and you don’t come out til I tell you to, got it?”

“But Daddy,” Duane began and Morgan shot him a look.

“I ain’t askin’, Duane.” He snapped. Duane pouted but did as he was told, stomping up the stairs like the moody preteen he didn’t have the luxury of being anymore. He at least didn’t slam the door upstairs and Rick could only be thankful.

“Get to talkin’.” Morgan said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“That,” Rick said, pointing to Morgan’s posture, “is a bad idea.” Morgan tilted his head and Rick explained. “Crossing your arms leaves you exposed, can’t reach for a weapon if someone decides to pull a fast one. Always keep your hands free.”

Morgan blinked at him. Slowly, he uncrossed his arms, palms coming to rest on his thighs. Rick nodded.

“Now, I know you don’t know me, but I know you.” Rick said, figuring the quickest way to do this was just rip the bandaid off. “All this?” he motioned to the abandoned house, the curtains blocking their lantern-light from the dead outside. “This has happened before. At least, for me.”

Morgan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve lived through this before.” Rick repeated. “I don’t know why or how but I woke up yesterday in the hospital, same as the first time. Right before all this started I got shot on duty and went into a coma. When the military came to evacuate the hospital it was already over-run and I got left for dead. My best friend barricaded the door hoping at least I wouldn’t get eaten but I woke up yesterday morning instead.”

“That’s… that’s awful.” Morgan said, stunned. “But if what you’re saying is true you must be the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive!.”

Rick grinned. “That’s what you said last time.”

“What?”

“I told you, I’ve done this before. All of it. I lived through nearly a decade of this shit the first time around, the walkers, the crazies, all of it. Met you, met Duane. You saved my life the first day I woke up, running around like an idiot with my ass in the wind.”

He told Morgan everything, from the first moment he’d woken up that first time to the moment Duane smacked him over the head with a shovel. He told him how Morgan had explained things to him, shown him the walkers and how to kill them. He explained how Morgan had shared his supplies, let Rick heal up, how they’d gone to the Sherriff’s station last time and gotten showers and guns.

Morgan just listened, his face pinched in a frown, until Rick got to the part where they’d decided to split up.

“I had to go find my wife and son, and you… you wouldn’t come.” Rick sighed.

Morgan rubbed a hand across his mouth, looking stunned but not pissed. “I… I got something I need to take care of here, before I can move on.” He murmured and Rick nodded.

“Jenny.” He said and Morgan’s head snapped up.

“The hell you-“

“I’m telling you, Morgan, I’ve done all this before. You stayed behind because you had to take care of Jenny yourself, couldn’t let her go on wandering out there and coming home every night to try and get in.”

As if his words had summoned her he heard a shuffling step on the porch. Morgan froze, wide eyes turning to watch as the door handle squeak. His hands shook and Rick swallowed down a lump of sympathy.

“The car alarm.” Rick said and right on cue it started squealing down the street, drawing the walkers away.

Morgan stared at him, fear and pain in his eyes. After a long, long moment he cleared his throat.

“Do I…” he choked and tried again. “Do I do it?”

Rick hung his head and Morgan let out a broken sigh. “No.” Rick said. “I left you behind, left you a walkie talkie to find me once you’d done it, but you never came. I found you a few years later, in another house across town, most of those guns I brought with me plus a whole hell of a lot else besides stored there and crazy writing all over the walls. You told me you couldn’t do it, couldn’t put her down. And one day Duane was out there and she came up on him. He froze. She bit him. Turned him. You had to put them both down and it cost you your sanity.”

Morgan let out a sob, his hands flying to his head as if he could rub the images Rick was painting out of his brain. Rick just watched, not knowing what else to do. When Morgan looked up, his eyes begging, Rick continued.

“I couldn’t, I couldn’t get you to come with me that time, either.” Rick admitted. “It wasn’t for another few years, up in D.C., that you found us again. You stayed. You became part of our family. You’re my family, Morgan.” He leaned forward, trying his best to get Morgan to read the truth in his eyes. “And I’m _not_ leaving you behind again.”

For a long time Morgan didn’t say anything. Rick resisted the urge to talk more, to force Morgan to accept it. He just watched and waited.

“You… you say you done all this before?” Morgan’s voice shook when he spoke up. Rick nodded solemnly. “What did… why are you back here then?” he asked.

Rick shuddered. “I died.” He admitted, rubbing absently at his calf where he’d felt that first bite. “We all died. Something happened, I don’t even know what, but a herd of walkers came in and destroyed everything. I saw them take everyone down and I was just lying waiting for my body to finally wise up and quit. Then…”

Daryl’s face looking down, Daryl’s breath on his skin.

Rick shook his head. “Then all of a sudden I was back in that hospital again. Don’t you get it, Morgan?”

Morgan gaped at him.

“We’ve got a chance to do this all over again, to keep the people we lost alive. We got a chance to do things _right_ this time. I have to take it. Tell me you’ll come with me?”

Morgan shook his head, his eyes glowing with disbelief as he looked towards the window. Rick could hear the car alarm die and the distant groans of walkers.

“I won’t leave Jenny.” Said Morgan. “I… can’t.”

Rick sighed and dropped his head, frustrated. Morgan _had_ to believe him. He had to save this man. If he couldn’t then that meant he couldn’t save anyone, couldn’t get anything to go different. He would lose them all over again, every last one of them.

“But I…” Rick looked up and found Morgan’s tear-filled eyes staring at him. “Maybe I’m just as crazy as your skinny white ass, but I believe you. You… you help me do it and I’ll come with you.”

Rick couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. It was changing. He could change it. He really could. He held out his hand.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!


	3. Déjà vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has commented and left kudos so far, I’m so pleased you’re enjoying this. It’s already moving a little slower than I intended plot-wise but it should ramp up soon. Just for clarification: in my version of events Negan never happened. Rick and the rest lived several years in Alexandria without the Saviours being a thing. There were other things that happened instead and that will come clear in a while.  
> Enjoy! Feedback is life!

The next morning they packed up Morgan’s house and headed for the station. Rick had lost a day in the hospital resting up but he’d gained back the night he’d spent passed out thanks to Duane’s shovel. If he pushed them he might be able to get ahead of himself, maybe stop the supply run into Atlanta altogether. Getting Morgan and Duane to the station to get the guns and the cruiser was step one.

The little herd that had gathered the night before had dispersed when the car alarm died and in the daylight the streets were wide and clear. It was like deja vu breaking into the station, except this time he went around back to find Leon and take care of him before letting Morgan and Duane inside. Soon one slow walker wasn’t going to be enough to give anyone pause but for now Rick knew Morgan and Duane were still fighting panic every time they saw one. There was no point in taking chances.

Like last time they all showered, Duane shouting with joy and Morgan crowing as the hot water hit his back. Rick could only smile. He tried to make the most of the shower, too, knowing it would be his last for a long time. His body was unfamiliar now. The years of tough living, fighting and running for his life had built up lean, corded muscle. That was all gone. He was weak and soft, pale as a fish and smooth-skinned. His bones didn’t stick out like they had the many times he’d been starving, and none of the too-many-to-count scars marred his skin yet. Hell, even his body hair was different, still brown and mostly trimmed up the way Lori had liked. Though he found a razor in his old desk - a left-over from the many night he’d slept here when Lori and him were fighting - he didn’t bother with a shave. He’d grown so used to his thick beard over the years that he didn’t quite feel right without it anymore. He wondered as he rubbed soap into his stubble how long it would be this time before it went gray.

Once they were clean and had made a little lunch from the supplies Morgan had brought Rick cleared off the break room table. Duane had stayed in the office, stretching out on the leather sofa to take a much-needed nap. Rick knew the kid hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, too curious about Rick and too upset about his mom’s body wandering around outside to get any good rest. At least the kid had the good sense to grab some sleep while he could.

Rick had dug a set of maps out of the Sherriff’s desk and laid them out on the table, marking down the quarry and as best he could, the Greene’s farm.

“Those more of your people?” Morgan asked from where he lounged in one of the cushy office chairs. Rick nodded.

“ _Our_ people.” He corrected, tapping the circle he’d drawn around the farm. “Maggie, Beth, and Hershel are here. And anyone else we can keep alive. And that’s where my boy is.” He pointed to the quarry.

“And your wife? She with him?” Morgan asked.

Rick chewed on his lip. “Yeah.” He said. He’d been trying not to think of Lori since he woke up. He could taste the desperation he’d had last time, the all-consuming need to find her and Carl. He still felt the same clawing urge to get to Carl. But Lori? This time around something had changed. He needed to find her, needed to keep her safe. He needed to see her again and hold her, feel her warm, beating heart against his chest. But it was the same need he had for almost everyone else in that camp. Glenn. Andrea and T-Dogg. Carol, god, Carol. Hell, even Shane. He realized as he thought of them all that Lori no longer held a place above any one of them. Maybe he’d just accepted all these years later that they hadn’t been right since long before the world ended. Maybe it was just that he’d changed too much since she died the first time around. Whatever it was, when he did find Lori he knew it wouldn’t go like last time. She was a member of his family, someone he loved, Carl and Judith’s mother. But maybe she wasn’t his wife anymore.

He tried not to let himself think of them all, alive out there and alone. Daryl’s tear-stained face flashed through his mind and he clenched his teeth. He would keep them all safe, Shane too, and find all the others somehow. They would stay alive, stay together. The Greenes, Tara and Michonne. Abraham’s people. Once they got everyone out of the quarry they could work on finding the others.

“You know, there was talk of maybe a safety zone at the CDC.” Morgan said, eyes ranging towards Atlanta. “Big scientists trying to figure a way out of all this mess.”

Rick’s head shot up. Jenner, Jacqui. “We ain’t goin’ there.” He growled and Morgan glanced at him. He peered at Rick and Rick glared back, not budging.

“Didn’t go so well before?” Morgan guessed and Rick shook his head.

“Nah.” He didn’t explain.

Morgan just sighed, smudging his finger over the city. “I gotta tell ya, Rick, “ he shook his head, “last night I said I believed you, but this whole thing is sounding crazier by the minute.”

“Crazier than the dead rising?” Rick challenged and Morgan snorted.

“Guess not.” He agreed. He looked up, a glint in his eyes. “Do we get a cure? In the future?”

Rick paused, remembering the wild flare of hope in his chest when Glenn had told him about Eugene. He stamped it down. That kind of hope did no good. It was just distracting. “Not while I was alive.” He said and Morgan went quiet.

“How long was that?”

Rick chewed on his lip a moment before answering. “Ten years, maybe?” he guessed. How long had it been since they’d found Alexandria? He thought of Judith, her long brown hair so like Lori’s. “Time didn’t mean much for a while there.” He admitted.

Morgan’s breath shook in the air between them. He murmured, “Ten years. Jesus.”

“A cure ain’t for me to worry about.” Rick told him sternly, bending to mark down every store, nursing home, and school he could remember raiding for food in that tough first winter with a little X. “I’m no scientist. Way I figure it, if there’s anyone smart enough to cure us all then my job is to stay breathin’ long enough to see it. And keep everyone else breathin’, too.”

“Us all?” Morgan’s voice cut through Rick as he realized his slip.

“Uh, yeah.” Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We’re all infected. No matter how you die, you come back. Don’t need to get bit, that just makes it faster. Someone dies for any reason you gotta get the brain.”

Morgan blinked.

“Learned that at the CDC last time around.” Rick told him. “It was a shit show.”

Morgan just grunted and Rick could see him trying to process it. He let him, searching the map for all the other places he remembered. He found Alexandria and circled it, put a big “no entry” sign over Terminus and another over Woodbury.

He’d have to deal with those places. The prison was going to be their best bet but this time around he wasn’t going to risk an all-out war with the Governor. Maybe he could get to him before his daughter died and drove him crazy - he remembered the revulsion in Michonne’s voice as she’d reported it all. Maybe he could get to Terminus before the disaster Carol had learned about hit them. He didn’t think he would ever risk bringing those people into his group but if he could give them a warning he would. If not… If not he’d take Carol, Daryl, and Michonne and burn the place to the ground. Not a single one of those monsters would make it out alive this time.

“Get your gun.” Rick said, folding the map away. “We got places to go so we’d better get this taken care of.” He winced at his own brutal tone but Morgan’s face steeled.

“Right.” He said with a jut of his chin.

They left Duane locked in the Sherriff’s office with a gun, Morgan’s bat, and strict orders not to open the doors for anyone. As they headed back towards Morgan’s place Rick watched the other man, pleased to see that he was keeping alert and not stumbling around in the shocked fog Rick remembered overtaking everyone back at the beginning. He would have to train Morgan and Duane up quickly, make sure they got comfortable with hand-to-hand walker killing as fast as they could. They’d all relied too much on guns early on. It was a waste of bullets and the sound of a shot had gotten them into bigger trouble too many times when they could have just stabbed or beaten their way out of it in the first place.

“You’re thinkin’ awful hard over there.” Morgan observed without taking his eyes off the abandoned house they passed.

Rick chuckled. “Plannin’.” He admitted. “S’all I ever seem to do anymore.”

Morgan glanced at him. “Plannin’ on what?”

Rick shrugged. “Everything. How I’m gonna keep you two alive. How I’m gonna find our family. Learned a long time ago ya can’t leave anythin’ to chance. Mostly plannin’ how I’m gonna keep y’all from thinkin’ I’m a complete maniac when y’all don’t get how the world is now.”

Morgan let out a noise. “That ship has sailed, friend. You’re certifiable.” He joked and Rick grinned. After a moment Morgan rolled his shoulders. “You think after what I’ve seen, after Jenny, I don’t get how the world is now?”

Rick couldn’t help it. He laughed. Morgan glared and Rick shook his head. “I think there ain’t no way you can even begin to realize what’s out there now, how people are gonna get.” He explained. “No one could, not ’til they see it. The shit I’ve waded through over the years, shit I’ve dived into willingly to protect me and mine…” he shook his head. “If it were me standing here, me how I was back at the start, and I heard some of the shit I’ve done and not lost a night of sleep over? Hell I’d put myself down like a rabid dog.”

Morgan stopped. Rick turned to look at him, hands loose around the crowbar he’d picked out of the station. Morgan’s fingers were clenched around the sniper rifle he’d brought for Jenny and Rick could see his palm was leaving sweat marks on the butt. “You killed people, Rick?”

Rick laughed and it was strange how young he sounded to himself. “Yeah, Morgan. Lots. You did, too.”

“Why?”

Rick shook his head, a smile on his lips. “Y’know, I used to ask everyone that. When we found someone new, someone who wanted to join our group. There were three questions they had to answer.”

“What were they?” Morgan asked, intent.

“How many walkers have you killed?” Rick remembered, wondering when the last time he’d asked anyone the questions was. Daryl and Aaron had been the ones bringing new people in for so long, then Spencer and Joanna. Rick hadn’t dealt with any strangers but the ones that needed putting down in years.

“And?” Morgan prompted. Rick tilted his head. “How many?”

Rick blinked. Morgan was staring at him and Rick realized he wanted answers, wanted Rick to pass his own test. Rick hung his head.

“Lost count.” He murmured. “Lost count a long, long time ago. Sometimes I could ignore ‘em, get around ‘em or through ‘em. Sometimes we had to stop and fight. Back on the road… some nights I musta killed dozens, who knows? And that last night… it was just blood and death and more blood. Coulda killed hundreds before they took me down. I dunno.”

Morgan’s eyes were wide but he didn’t call Rick a liar. “What are the other questions?” he asked finally.

Rick sighed. “How many people you killed?”

Morgan swallowed. “And?”

Rick couldn’t look him in the face for this. He wasn’t ashamed, wasn’t sorry, but that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? He remembered telling Deana and her camera, fresh off the road and staining her pristine couch with his blood-caked jeans. He remembered the way she’d looked at him, unreadable even to someone like him. He doubted Morgan would be quite so good at concealing how he felt about murder.

“Lost count of those, too.” Rick admitted and Morgan stopped breathing. “Some of ‘em werequick, didn’t have time to think, just had to act. Some of ‘em I thought about a long time before I did it. Don’t matter, in the end. Still did ‘em all and I wouldn’t take ‘em back. Hell, if anything there are some I _didn’t_ kill that I came to regret.”

Morgan didn’t say anything for a long time, too long. He just stood in the street and stared at Rick. Rick finally got up the nerve to look back and Morgan blew out a breath.

“Your first question was the last.” Rick told him. “‘Why’? I can tell you why, Morgan. Every single person I’ve killed, in the heat of the moment or gone back in after to take out, every one of ‘em died so that the people I love could live. _That’s_ how the world is now. You don’t hesitate, you don’t flinch. You keep your family safe and you do whatever it takes.”

Morgan looked at him a long time and Rick just let him. He knew it would be hard to swallow, how right now the morality of the old world still clung to Morgan’s mind. But Rick had seen to much to go back, had made too many mistakes trying to be the good guy from back before to let it happen again. The man who had woken from that coma the first time had been stupid, a white knight trying his best to play peacekeeper and not executioner. Rick had left that man behind a long time ago.

“And me?” Morgan asked finally and Rick frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“How would I answer those questions, ten years from now?” Morgan asked.

Rick thought. “You.” He said and shook his head. “You changed. A lot. You had to after you lost Duane. For a while you killed folks, killed walkers and that was all you had. But when you found me again you were different. You put down walkers but you didn’t kill, left all that behind. That was how you kept going when the world was tryin’ to tell you to give up. And I respected that. Mostly.” Rick cocked a grin at him. “You were the only person that kept me sane a few times, I did the same for you. You were still a good man at the end.”

Morgan watched him a while longer before he nodded. “Okay.” He said and Rick let himself relax. “I’m not sayin’ I don’t think you’re crazy, because you sure as hell are, but I believe you want to keep me and Duane alive. That’s gonna have to be good enough for now.”

Morgan started off again and Rick fell into step beside him. “Thanks, Morgan.” He murmured. He could hear Deana in his head: _sounds like I want to be part of your family._

In the end taking care of Jenny went smoother than Rick could have hoped.

They were a few streets away from Morgan’s place when they passed a little convenience store. The parking lot was deserted except for one car and Rick had Morgan stand watch while he checked the starter. It was unlocked so the alarm hadn’t been armed, but there was a little juice left in the battery. He nodded to himself as he straightened up.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the flat roof above the store. “There’ll be a ladder or something around back. Get up there and I’ll set off the alarm. That should draw anything out around here. These ones in town haven’t formed up a herd just yet so I don’t think she could have gotten far.”

Morgan’s face was pale but he nodded, swinging the rifle around onto his back. He trotted away and Rick broke open the panel under the steering wheel, smiling as he remembered the first time Daryl had taught him how to do this.

 _“Used ta need ta turn these damn noisemakers off, not on.”_ Daryl had sniffed.

Rick had grinned as Daryl fussed around under the steering block. “ _That a confession, Dixon?”_ he’d asked. “ _Y’know I could still wrestle up a pair of cuffs if you gave me good reason.”_

Daryl had blushed bright red and told Rick to shut the hell up. Rick could almost feel the fond bump of Daryl’s big shoulder as he clipped the wires and let them spark together. As the alarm started to scream he scampered around the back of the store, crawling up on a dumpster to climb the fire ladder and join Morgan.

The man was laying belly-down on the roof, the rifle propped on a cinder block as Morgan peered through the sight. Rick stretched out beside him, pleased that his hips and knees weren’t as sore as yesterday. His forced inaction had left the beginnings of bed-sores on his ass and back and all his joints had felt like they had frozen solid. They were loosening up the more he moved, thank god.

They waited, the alarm shrieking. Walkers began to show up in ones and twos, Morgan taking a couple practice shots at the faster ones. His lips were tight as he squeezed the trigger and Rick nearly scoffed at the strange picture of Morgan with a gun in his hand. It had been years since Rick had seen the man wield any weapon but his staff and maybe a knife now and then. The contrast between the two Morgans, the one he knew and this one he’d first met, was giving him a weird sort of whiplash.

Rick was the one to spot Jenny shuffling out of an over-grown back yard, her nightie ripped and slippers scuffed. He felt Morgan tense beside him as he pointed. Morgan stopped breathing. Rick cursed inwardly. He’d known this would be hard for Morgan. Hell, it would be hard for anyone, even after all those years. It would have ripped Rick apart inside to have to put Lori down. But if Morgan was going to move on this had to happen.

Rick sidled closer, keeping his voice low and calm. “It’s not her, Morgan.” He said. “That ain’t the woman you love. And if you don’t put that thing down Duane is gonna die.” Morgan sucked in a shaky inhale. “You still got him, Morgan.” Rick murmured. “You got to protect him.”

“I got it.” Morgan choked on a sob, taking out the walker to her left with a shot to the jaw. Rick could see even from here Jenny turn to look up, staring with sunken eyes at their perch. Morgan squeezed off another shot, taking down the one behind her.

“Morgan.” Rick hissed. The area was open enough that the echoes would confuse the walkers but they didn’t have much ammo for the sniper rifle. “It ain’t her. You gotta let her go.”

Morgan’s breath was coming in gasps now, his fingers tensing and slipping on the grip of the rifle. He was muttering nearly soundlessly to himself and Rick could catch his wife’s name in there.

“Jenny. I’m sorry, baby.” Morgan whispered, but his finger didn’t budge on the trigger. “I’m _sorry.”_

After a long, silent moment Morgan cursed and dropped his eye from the sight. He was hyperventilating, little desperate cries on each exhale bouncing back off the tarpaper. Rick sighed and pressed one hand into Morgan’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t have to be you.” He said gently. Morgan shook his head. Tears hit the sleeve of his shirt where he held the rifle and he grit his teeth.

“I gotta…” Morgan gasped. “I gotta…”

“Let me.” Rick told him.

Morgan grit his teeth but didn’t resist as Rick took the rifle from his hands. He scooted to the side to take aim and Morgan curled up on his side, shaking.

“It’s almost over.” Rick assured him as he peered through the sight.

Rick dropped Jenny’s body with a single shot and Morgan gave a violent twitch.

“It’s done, Morgan.” Rick murmured as he laid the rifle aside. He rubbed his friend’s back like he used to soothe Carl after a nightmare. “It’s done, she’s gone.”

“Jenny.” Morgan’s voice cracked. They lay there on the roof for a long time, Morgan sobbing quietly as the walkers crowded the car.

Eventually Morgan sat up, resolutely turning his back on the scene below them and instead staring off at the setting sun. Rick kept still, hoping his friend wouldn’t resent him for what he’d done. He couldn’t blame Morgan if he did, especially not now. The harsh realities of this new world hadn’t gotten their fingers into him yet, hadn’t hardened him up. But when Morgan swiped he hand across his face and patted his dusty jeans Rick saw a glimmer of the old Morgan there. Or new. Future? Rick shook his head.

“Thanks.” Morgan said and Rick just nodded. “C’mon.” Morgan stood and shoved a hand under his nose to wipe away the snot. “Let’s go make sure Duane’s ok.”

* * * * *

The trip towards Atlanta was faster than before. They’d stayed the night in the station, Morgan too shaken up for Rick to push him to leave right away. But at the crack of dawn he had them up and the cruiser packed and they’d left King County behind.

While Morgan and Duane had locked themselves in to mourne Jenny Rick had spent the night syphoning gas off every car in a mile radius around the station. Now he had enough cans in the trunk to easily make it to the quarry. The only stop he made was at the same farm as that first time, just to turn that horse out of its paddock. The creature had served him pretty good and although he knew its chances were shit he figured he could at least give it a shot at living this time around. Morgan looked at him funny when he climbed back behind the wheel and the horse disappeared into the fields but Rick just shrugged.

He took the back roads. He knew the highway was a mess of abandoned cars and prayed the herd he knew was coming hadn’t gotten that far yet. He turned the CB on but didn’t announce his presence every few miles like he had last time. Instead he kept switching channels and listening. Glenn had had a CB the first time. That’s how he’d contacted Rick in that damn tank. They were passing a sign for the aquarium that had been rusted out well before the end of the world when they heard the call.

“If… can hear… survivors… trapped in… we need…” Morgan swore as Rick put his foot down, racing up a hill toward the city to try and clear the signal. It was another half mile before the call came again.

“I repeat:” said a familiar, panic-stricken voice.

“Andrea.” Rick breathed, getting a look from Morgan.

“If anyone can hear this we are a group of survivors with a camp outside Atlanta. We came in to the city for supplies and now we’re trapped in a department store. We need help. If anyone is out there, please send whatever help you can.”

Rick pulled alongside a little gas station full of abandoned cars, picked up the radio and took a breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “This is Deputy Grimes responding.” He said in his long-forgotten cop tone. “Caller please repeat your location.”

“Oh, thank Christ!” Andrea came back and Rick grinned. For a moment he thought she must remember him but she didn’t react at all to his name. Instead she rattled off the location of the department store and Rick was surprised to find it was a different one from the one where he’d chained Merle to the roof. “You gotta help, officer. We’re surrounded.” She pleaded.

“How many are you?” Rick asked, praying to everything he could that no one had died without him yet. If things were changing…

“Four.” Andrea said and Rick cursed.

“That bad?” Morgan asked and Rick shrugged.

“Could be. There were more last time.” Rick said quietly, then put the radio to his mouth again. “Copy.” He looked around, wondering if any of these cars would start. He couldn’t leave Morgan and Duane without a working vehicle and he sure as shit wasn’t bringing them with him into the city. His eyes landed on a motorcycle laying on its side beside the gas pump and he grinned. Daryl had taught him to ride back at the prison. He had been terrible, too scared to lose his balance to really try but he knew the basics.

“Caller, I’m half an hour outside the city. Sit tight and I’ll get to you.”

“What then?” Andrea demanded and Rick felt a swell of fondness for the pushy blond.

“I’ll figure it out.” He promised. “Gotta get an eye on the situation before I can come up with a plan. You folks sit tight. I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“Thank you, officer!” He could hear Andrea beaming.

Rick jumped out of the cruiser and headed for the bike, propping it up and checking the tires. They were flat and he carefully wheeled it over to the air pump.

“You just going to charge in there?” Morgan demanded, following him around the car. Duane stayed put in the back seat, eyes wide as he watched Rick work.

Rick fitted the nozzle to the back tire, giving a soft whoop when the cannister hissed and the tire inflated. “Those are our people, Morgan.” He told his friend. “This is how I met them the first time. Got myself stuck in Atlanta looking for the CDC. Glenn got me out of a tight spot and now looks like I gotta do the same.” He finished filling the second tire and checked the gas gauge. It was empty so he ran to the trunk to grab a can.

“Rick, this is nuts! Even if you _do_ know what’s going to happen you said yourself it’s all different now.”

“Don’t matter.” Rick told him, unscrewing the gas cap on the bike’s tank. “I gotta get to them.” Glenn, Andrea, T-Dogg. They’d all been there, trapped. “You and Duane go back a few miles to that access road. Wait there. _Don’t_ get on the highway, no matter what. I got a walkie and I’ll get in touch with you on our way out. Got it?”

“Rick-“

“There ain’t time to argue, Morgan!” Rick snapped and Morgan glared. Rick ran to the cruiser and grabbed his deputy’s jacket and a shotgun with a shoulder strap. He checked his python and strapped a knife to each thigh and shoved a third down the back of his jeans. “I’m goin’. I’ll be back quick as I can but you gotta look after Duane. Start up the CB for 5 minutes every hour and keep quiet. If I’m not back by sundown you take Duane to the quarry and wait for me there. Got it?”

Morgan chewed his lip but nodded.

“Good.” Rick said, throwing his leg over the bike and tucking his crowbar through his belt. “I’ll be back.” He promised. And without another backward glance he kicked the ignition and drove towards Atlanta.


	4. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe the positive reaction to this fic so far! I’m really excited at the direction it’s going and I hope you all are, too. A few friends are joining in this chapter and I’ve got to say it’s more challenging to write a few of them than I expected. I hope no one seems out of character too much. 
> 
> Slight trigger warning in this chapter for descriptions of suicide. Its pretty tame, but fair warning.

Rick managed to get pretty far into the city before he had to abandon the bike. The noise of it drew too much attention for him to risk bringing it all the way downtown so he stashed it in an alley and continued on foot. He remembered how useful Daryl’s bike had been, fast and light, and hoped they could swing back for this one on the way out of town. The first little cluster of walkers he ran into had him cursing his weak muscles and slow limbs. It seemed remembering in his head how to move quick and quiet was only part of it, and he would have to let his body catch up. He slipped away from them eventually, luring a couple after him deliberately. With the two of them down he busted the window out of an over-packed car to find a sheet. He cut a hole and tugged it over his clothes like a poncho, cut slits so he could move his arms freely if he got in trouble, and smeared walker guts all over it. He made sure to rub the gore into his freshly-washed hair and beard to hide the scent of shampoo.

As he headed downtown he glanced up, remembering the rain that had nearly gotten him and Glenn killed last time. The sky was clear and blue and he picked up the pace, hoping to get there before anyone did anything stupid like try to make a break for it.

Downtown was swarming with walkers, some of them so fresh they still looked like people. He kept his crowbar in his hand just in case and forced himself to shuffle along calmly. As he rounded a corner onto the street Andrea had given him he wondered when exactly he’d become so comfortable with the whole walker-guts disguise tactic. The first time he’d nearly vomited, cried, and shit himself all at once. But now it barely registered. He could focus on finding likely escape routes and mostly ignore the hoard of walkers shuffling aimlessly around him. He shrugged it off as just another mark of how much he’d changed as he spotted the store.

A few dozen walkers were pressed to the glass front, their black-fingered hands squeaking against the glass as they pawed at it. They weren’t in a frenzy, not yet, just stupidly focused on some noise or scent they’d caught from inside. Rick couldn’t see well enough over their heads to tell if the group had had the good sense to abandon the ground floor or not. He did notice the building next door hadn’t survived the end of the world quite as well as the store the group had picked. The plate glass had been smashed out of its windows and a handful of walkers were milling about inside. He joined them, picking his way through the racks of clothes and mannequins that were somehow still nearly as creepy as the actual living dead wandering around, to the back in search of a stairwell.

He found it, cursing inwardly as he noticed the massive push-bar. It would make too much noise and he had no way of telling whether the stairwell was overrun or not. He paused and chewed his lip as he thought. Finally he decided he’d have to chance it. This was the fastest way to get to his people and he absolutely did not want to be caught here after dark. He glanced around, looking for anything to use as a distraction. A few yards away there was a display of luggage piled up to look like the Eiffel Tower with a big sign that read _“Adventure Awaits!”._ It reached the high ceiling and Rick was honestly impressed it had lasted this long with walkers stupidly bumping into it as they shuffled past. There was a rack of shoes to his right and he grabbed a hefty-feeling boot, lobbing it as hard as he could at the luggage tower. He grinned as it all came crashing down, creating one hell of a racket. With the walkers distracted he opened the door and stepped to the side, holding it open in case any walkers inside had heard the noise.

After a moment where the luggage rattled pathetically into a pile on the floor and the walkers all gathered around to gawk, Rick stuck his head into the stairwell, crowbar at the ready, and thanked his luck that the flood lighting was still working. Must be solar or something, he thought as he slipped in and let the door swing shut behind him. He listened but the stairwell was silent. It was empty and he started the climb with his heart in his throat. His people. They were here. They were just a few hundred yards away. Andrea, maybe T-Dogg. They were alive again. Or still. Whatever. 

By the time he stepped out on the roof six stories up his lungs were screaming at him and walker gore was dripping into his eyes with his sweat. Damn, he was weak. The roof was baking in the Georgia sun and he whipped off his walker sheet, using the inside to wipe his face mostly clean. Not much he could do about the shit in his hair, though. He looked up and found that the store his people were in was a few stories higher than this one and he cursed. He was faced with a blank brick wall, no windows to crawl through or even an emergency exit door out onto this roof. Looking around he jogged toward the back of the building and as he came around the massive industrial AC unit he caught a break. A fire ladder. It was just a set of steel rungs bolted to the wall but he’d climbed much worse. With a deep breath he started shimmying up as quick as he could manage. From the roof it was easy enough to find a fire door and wrench it open with his crowbar.

This time he wasn’t so lucky. No lights. He paused, waiting for any sound from the stairwell. When nothing came he picked up a loose bit of tile and chucked it inside, listening to it slap against the stairs a few stories down. Nothing. He pulled his radio from his belt and made sure it was still tuned to Andrea’s channel.

“Caller, this is deputy Grimes, come in.” He said low and quiet, still keeping one ear on the stairwell.

“Officer, we’re here!” Andrea sounded more relieved than Rick could ever remember hearing.

“Good. Listen, I’m on your roof.” He began and the radio crackled in his hand. “I’m coming down the stairs so don’t shoot me. What floor are you on?”

“Second.” Andrea replied. “How the hell did you get on the roof?”

Rick ignored her and tucked the walkie away, lifting his crowbar with both hands and stepping gingerly into the darkened stairwell. It was eerily silent as he made his way down, pausing now and then to listen for the hissing, rattling breath of a walker. It took him a few long minutes to reach the second floor door and he tapped lightly with his crowbar. After a minute he could hear someone scrambling on the other side and he slowly pushed it open, glad for the bright light that flooded in.

“Well, well, well.” Drawled a familiar voice and Rick froze. “If it ain’t Officer Friendly.”

Rick blinked to clear the sunspots from his eyes. “Merle?” he gaped.

The blocky man was standing a few feet away, fists on his hips and a grin a mile wide on his face. It widened more as he took in Rick’s shock and in a few short strides he closed the gap to slap Rick on the shoulder. Rick stumbled, totally blindsided as Merle chuckled and gripped his arm like a long-lost friend. He carried the same rifle on his back that had started all the trouble last time, Rick noted.

“If you ain’t a sight for sore eyes, Rick!” the redneck muttered and Rick felt all the air leave him in a whoosh. Merle remembered him!

“H-how-?”

Merle cut him off before he could say anything else, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and turning to face the three sets of wide eyes that were staring at them. Andrea. T-Dogg. Glenn. Jesus, how young they all looked. Glenn was practically a kid in his baseball cap and tennis shoes.

“Holy shit.” Rick breathed. He couldn’t help it. He raised one hand in an aborted gesture, staring at the three of them and realizing that none of them were looking back like they had any idea who he was. Surely Glenn at least would remember? Hadn’t they been through enough together? But as he stared at Glenn and took in the man’s curious, open expression he realized this wasn’t the Glenn he knew.Why? Why was it only Merle?

“This here’s an old friend, folks. Officer Rick Grimes.” Merle told them.

“How do you know him?” Andrea demanded and Merle scuffed his shoe on the linoleum.

“Now, now, Blondie,” heflashed her a smile that on anyone else Rick might have called charming. “I know this is gon’ be hard to believe comin’ from ol’ Merle, but back in the day I weren’t exactly the fine, upstanding citizen you see before you.” Rick couldn’t help it, he snorted. “And Officer Friendly here had to lock me up a few times, jus’ til I learned my lesson an’ all.”

Andrea rolled her eyes and Rick was shocked to see a fond smile there. “Somehow that’s not surprising.” She said and Rick nearly choked as he caught a hint of flirtation in her tone.

“Rick, this here’s Andrea.” Merle told him like he didn’t know. “She’s the pretty lady you been talkin’ to on the CB. That there’s Glenn and the big guy is T-Dogg.”

“Merle.” Rick staggered. “How did you-“

“Now, now!” Merle interrupted again, his hand tightening around Rick’s arm. “There’ll be plenty’a time ta spend catchin’ up but right now we gotta get ourselves outta this mess.” He flashed Rick a look and Rick thought he recognized it. _Later,_ it said. Whatever the reason was Rick could at least agree on that. They had more pressing matters than the fact that they seemed to be the only ones who remembered anything. “You got any ideas?” Merle asked and Rick nearly laughed as he realized why Merle was asking. Of course. Last time this happened Merle had been left on the roof as they all escaped, baking in the sun and cuffed to a pipe.

“Well,” Rick said, casting the redneck an appraising glance, “if you’re sure you ain’t gonna kick up trouble?”

Merle actually laughed. “No, sir, officer!” he chuckled. “Like I said, changed man.” Rick hummed noncommittally.

“How many of you are there?” Andrea asked, looking towards the windows. “How did you even get in here?”

“It’s just me.” Rick told her, running a hand through his hair as the dried walker guts began to make his scalp itch.

“Just _you_?” T-Dogg’s eyes bugged.

“Yeah.” Rick sighed. He was bone-tired already but he had to focus. He had to get these people out of here.

“Jesus!” T-Dogg spun away, his big palms scraping across his scalp in frustration.

Glenn gaped at him. “We thought, we thought you had a team or something! But you’re just some asshole lone ranger wannabe, aren’t you?”

Merle chuckled and Rick shot him a glare.

“Listen,” he growled. “I know y’all have no reason to trust me but I came in here to get you all out and I’m gonna.” He said, low and intense. The three of them stared at him and his blood-caked hair. “Now listen. It’s gonna get dark soon and we don’t have time to waste. We’ve got to be out of the city before nightfall or we’re gonna be screwed. The way I got in is the way we’re all gonna get out. Glenn?”

Glenn straightened up in surprise. “Uh, yeah officer?” he stuttered and Rick shook his head. Jesus this was weird.

“Call me Rick, all of you.” He said. “Glenn, you’re the fastest. I need you to go to the roof and see if you can see a loading bay out back of any of these buildings. See if any of them have a van or something that looks decent. The stairwell’s clear.”

Glenn glanced at Andrea and she shrugged. Rick tried not to let that rankle. Glenn didn’t know him, he reminded himself, had no reason to trust him. Especially not when he showed up reeking of walker guts and looking half-dead himself. Still, it hurt to realize the trust he’d relied on for years, the unspoken bond he could still feel with the young man born of suffering and death and hanging on by the skin of their teeth had dissolved into nothing. Christ. He tried to shake it off.

“Andrea, you take Merle and find some long coats, one for everyone. Bring them back here. You found anything in this store that might be used as an explosive?” he asked, looking to Merle. The others wouldn’t have developed that kind of eye yet.

Merle pursed his lips. “Think there was a camping section downstairs.” He said. “Might be some propane tanks or sumthin’.”

Rick grinned. “Good. T-Dogg, you and me are gonna go down and see if we can’t grab one.”

“You up to that?” Merle asked, looking Rick up and down. “No offense but you look like a newborn kitten could whip your ass in a fight.”

Rick grunted. “That’s why I’m bringin’ him.” He said, pointing to T-Dogg. “He’s the muscle and I know he’s not going to put a knife in my back the minute I’m not looking.”

Andrea gasped and Rick shot her a questioning look. She actually looked offended and he raised an eyebrow. Merle chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m tellin’ you, Grimes, them times is behind me. You can trust ol’ Merle.”

Rick snorted. “No thanks, Dixon. Not without one hell of a heart-to-heart first.”

Merle raised his hands - both of them still whole and functioning, Rick noted with a start - but didn’t seem mad. “Fair enough.” He allowed.

“Deputy,” Andrea cut in. Her tone was harsh and he recognized the aggression in the way she leaned back on her hips and crossed her arms. “I don’t know what Merle did to cross your path before, but I will have you know that this man is a veteran and he has been nothing but good to our group. He’s kept most of us alive through all this. If you’ve got a problem with him, kindly shove it up your ass.”

Rick blinked. Merle guffawed and clapped Rick hard on the shoulder again. “Awe, now, Blondie.” He said, grinning at Andrea. Her stance loosened and a smile crept across her face. Jesus, Rick thought, they’re actually _flirting_. “Grimes here ain’t so bad. If there’s anyone I want on my side with a pack of those fuckers out there on my tail it’s him.” Rick cast him a skeptical look at the praise. Last he’d known Merle thought he didn’t have the stomach to survive in this world. “And believe me,” Merle continued, ignoring his look, “he got good reason not to trust me. I’s a real pain in the ass last time we met, weren’t I, Rick?”

Rick snorted. “Understatement.” He said. “And the promise I made you then still stands, you hear me?”

“What promise?” Glenn asked, clearly burning up with curiosity.

Merle chuckled. “I gotcha, Grimes. Believe me, I gotcha.”

“What promise?” Glenn repeated.

“Promised to fit his boot up my ass if I didn’t get my shit together.” Merle told him and Rick narrowed his eyes at the lie. He’d promised Merle in one of the quiet moments when Daryl had been out of ear shot that if he did anything to hurt Rick’s family Rick would put a knife in his temple. “Paraphrasing, of course.” Merle winked at him. “Well come on, princesses, let’s get movin’.”

Andrea frowned at Rick but turned away with Merle. Rick watched them go, flabbergasted. Glenn moved tentatively up alongside him. “Uh, Rick? You okay, man?” he asked and Rick closed his eyes against the twist in his stomach at the unfamiliar way Glenn said his name. Like he was a stranger. He hadn’t realized he’d been expecting his family to remember him. Realizing none of them did fucking _hurt._

 _“_ Right.” He growled. “Glenn, get up to the roof. T-Dogg, let’s go.” Glenn followed Rick and T-Dogg to the stairs, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Rick had forgotten how fidgety the kid had been back at the start. For a moment he ached for the steady, determined Glenn he knew.

“Quick and quiet.” Rick told them as he shook himself out of that thought. “When I came in the walkers were still outside but the less noise we make, the better.”

“Right.” T-Dogg nodded.

“Y’all got weapons?” Rick asked and Glenn and T-Dogg pulled out a pistol each. Rick winced. Those would blow all their ear-drums out in close quarters and get the attention of every walker on the block.

“Here.” Rick handed T-Dogg one of the knives strapped to his thigh and reached down the back of his jacket to hand Glenn another. “Use these if you can manage it without getting bit. Gunshots are just gonna rile up the ones outside.”

Glenn looked at him like he was nuts but took the knife and headed up the stairs. Rick listened to him go for a moment before he turned back to T-Dogg.

“C’mon. Quick, quiet, and keep your head down.”

They headed for the ground floor, Rick pausing to listen at the door before cracking it open. Immediately the squeaking, slippery squeal of walker-skin on glass hit his ears and he breathed a sigh. They hadn’t broken through yet. Good. He ducked low, slipping through the racks of jewellery and watches and wincing at the heavy-footed clatter of T-Dogg behind him. Had they all been that loud at the start?

About halfway across the store he paused, putting one hand up to stop T-Dogg where he followed. He cocked his head, listening hard for whatever had flashed an alarm in his brain. He’d learned a long time ago to trust his ears, even if he didn’t know what they were trying to tell him. Sure enough, there, soft and nearly silent, he heard it. The clicking, rattling rasp of a walker. He looked around, trying to decide where it was coming from, and caught sight of a set of changing rooms near the back wall. Motioning for T-Dogg to stay put he slipped toward them, listening at each flimsy door until he found the one occupied stall. He paused, closed his eyes, and took a breath. He wrenched open the door and leapt forward, stabbing the walker in the head before he’d even properly registered what it looked like.

It had been a girl. Young, maybe fifteen when she died. The long, dark stains on her wrists told him well enough how she’d ended it. How on earth she’d ended up here all alone at the end of the world he didn’t know.

“Jesus.” T-Dogg’s voice startled Rick as the big man appeared over his shoulder. “She been in here this whole time?”

Rick nodded. “Bring her to the stairs.” He said and T-Dogg started.

“What?”

“Trust me.” Rick told him. “She’s gonna help us.”

T-Dogg looked at him like he was nuts but did as he said. His hands shook and he looked like he might hurl as he dragged the dead girl by the arms across the tile floor but he didn’t complain. Rick just held still and tried to calm the fluttering of his hands. He was so damn weak, running high on adrenaline and not much else. He just had to get them out of here and he could rest on the way to the quarry. If he just held it together…

T-Dogg returned and Rick nodded at him, dropping back down to continue their search. They found the camping section in the far back corner and Rick grinned as he stared at the display of mini camping stoves. Propane tanks the size of a soccer ball had probably been convenient for the weekend warriors before. Now they were exactly what he needed to blow a hole in that herd outside. He motioned for T-Dogg to grab a few, taking as many as he could carry by the convenient metal handles. They slunk back to the stairs, stepping over the dead walker, and in no time they were up on the second floor again inspecting their haul.

Andrea and Merle had found some rain slickers and Glenn came trotting back in, huffing like a steam train.

“There’s a loading bay out back, like you said, Rick.” He reported with a frown. “But it’s empty.”

“Damn.” T-Dogg swore.

“There’s a few vans in a parking lot behind the fast food place across the street from next door.” Glenn said and Rick looked up.

“That way?” Rick asked, pointing through the wall towards the building he’d used to enter.

“Yeah.” Glenn agreed. “The parking lot entrance leads out to the main street where all those walkers are. I took the fire escape down to check it out from this side and it looks like all the tires are intact and everything. But we’d have to get around the geeks at the front door. No way we could get down the fire escape to the vans before they saw us.

Rick snorted. “Leave that to Merle and me.” He said, casting a glance at the older Dixon. Merle grinned at him and Rick couldn’t help but quirk a smile back. Merle remembered. Merle wouldn’t flinch at a few dozen walkers in his way. Neither would Rick.

“Everybody take a coat.” Rick told them, shrugging one on that wasn’t too comically oversized.

“What is this for?” Glenn asked as he threaded his arms through another.

“This is how I got in here. Walkers don’t attack their own.” Rick explained. Andrea wentpale and Glenn’s eyes nearly popped out of his face. Rick ignored their horror. “This will work.” He assured them. “I’ve done it before. We cover ourselves so we smell like walkers, look like ‘em. We walk slow and calm and we can get right through ‘em.”

“Is _that_ what the shit in your hair is?” Glenn squeaked and Rick nodded.

“S’how I got in here. Walked ten blocks right through ‘em. We keep our calm, keep our nerve, and they won’t even notice us.”

“You’re crazy!” T-Dogg choked and Merle shook his head.

“Crazy like a fox.” He said and flung on one of the slickers. “You figure this all out yourself?”

Rick huffed and cut his eyes at Glenn for an instant. “Nah. Not on my own.” He said. “A friend of mine helped.” Merle glanced at Glenn and his eyes widened.

“Huh.” He grunted.

“Your friend’s a fucking dumbass.” Glenn griped as he buttoned up his coat.

Rick laughed. “Yeah, but he’s alive.”

“C’mon, Blondie.” Merle coaxed and Rick glanced up to find Andrea looking like she was about to be sick. “Yer one badass babe. Y’can do this.”

“This isn’t right!” She spat and Rick was surprised to see her level a glare at him.

“Hell, Andrea,” Merle scoffed, “whole world ain’t right!” She pursed her lips and a tear sprouted in her eye. Merle shoved a coat at her and she took it, staring at it like it was something disgusting. “And if I had died in that damned sand-trap” Merle continued and Rick remembered he’d spent time in Afghanistan, “and my boys coulda gotten out of a bad situation wearing my head like a party hat I’da told ‘em ‘good luck’! Hell, woulda been the closest to handsome half those ugly bastards woulda ever gotten, anyway.” He grinned and Andrea let out a choked giggle.

“T-Dogg.” Rick said and tried to summon up as much of his compassion as he could and force it into his voice. “The girl from downstairs. She died alone and scared. But her death’s gonna mean something. Because she’s gonna help us.”

T-Dogg looked sick but nodded. “Right.” He said.

Rick led them downstairs and through the grim ritual of painting themselves in gore. Glenn did turn away to vomit once and Andrea cried through the whole thing, but eventually they were all covered in gore and passable enough. Rick had them each grab a propane tank and head to the roof. His legs screamed at him to stop but he ignored them. They were nearly out of this. They came out onto the roof and Rick showed them how to get down to the building next door, hitching the propane tank handle over his shoulder like a lady’s purse. When they all stood in front of the door he’d come through before he made them stop.

“This is it. The stairwell is lit and empty but after that it’s gonna be walkers all the way through. Y’all stay here. Me ’n Merle are gonna create a distraction down that way.” He pointed down the block away from the parking lot. “You stay put, you stay quiet, and you don’t panic. I’ll be back for you. Got it?”

“What are you gonna do?” Glenn asked and Rick raised the propane tank. Glenn gaped like a fish.

“Merle’s one hell of a shot with that rifle.” Rick told them, taking Dixon’s tank from his hands as he preened at the praise. “He’s gonna wait up here and once I’ve placed these he’s gonna shoot ‘em. They’ll make a big enough racket to draw every walker on this side of Atlanta. Then we all are gonna make a break for those vans and get out of here.”

Merle gave a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a plan, Friendly.” He said.

“Is that going to work?” Andrea demanded and Rick nodded.

“It’ll work. Y’all wait here and Merle, you wait til I’m back at the door before you let those things off. Got it?”

“Got it.” Merle nodded and Rick was surprised that he believed him. Merle had always been all about self-preservation, he guessed.

“Right.” Rick didn’t ask them to wish him luck before he turned for the stairs. He was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Wait!” Glenn demanded, gathering Andrea and T-Dogg’s propane tanks, too. “I’m coming with you. It’ll go faster with two of us and I know these streets better if we get stuck.”

“Glenn,” Rick tried but Glenn cut him off.

“Someone’s got to keep your crazy ass alive through this.” He said and sidestepped Rick to head down the stairs. Rick glanced at Merle, getting a solemn nod in return. If this went to shit Merle would get the rest of them out of there. Rick believed it. Ignoring how weird that was Rick followed Glenn downstairs.

When they reached the ground floor Rick put a finger to his lips and listened at the door. He couldn’t hear anything through it and he motioned for Glenn to stay close. Slow as he good, he depressed the bar and pushed the door open. His luggage distraction had drawn the walkers all to the other side of the floor and he and Glenn slipped easily enough out onto the street. Rick could hear Glenn hyperventilating behind him as they slid through the ranks of walkers but he threw the kid a glance and Glenn tamped down his panic.

They ran into a big cluster at one point and Rick paused, trying to think his way around. The group at the department store doors were pinching off the rest of the street. There was no way these things were going to move slower than a crawl unless something distracted them. But he didn’t want to get them riled up prematurely. It was Glenn that came up with a solution, crouching down slow as anything to grab a chunk of asphalt that had broken off the side of a pothole and roll it along the ground between the walkers’ legs. The little knot blocking their way all turned to follow the sound and Rick and Glenn slipped past.

They moved as quickly as Rick dared and in a few minutes they were at the big intersection at the end of the block. There was a three-car pileup right in the middle and a few groaning walkers mangled in the metal. A slick of oil and dried up gas stained the tarmac around the wreck.

Rick glanced at Glenn and pointed to the cars. Slowly, ignoring the way Glenn’s hands were shaking, Rick piled their propane tanks beside the cars, right in the middle of the oil slick. When he turned back he found a walker had sidled right up to Glenn and was staring at the side of the kid’s face. Glenn was shaking, looking like he was about to scream or faint or both. Rick stood, locking eyes with the kid and slipping his knife from his belt. He tried to plead with Glenn to stay quiet with just his eyes but this Glenn didn’t understand that sort of thing yet. This Glenn didn’t remember the years of nonverbal communication, all the times when a word would have gotten them killed. This Glenn was terrified and saw Rick as some crazy stranger taking crazy risks.

Rick killed the walker with one swift stab to the temple, spattering fresh gore all over Glenn’s face. It collapsed in a heap and Glenn blew out a breath that sounded a bit like a sob. Rick gripped his shoulder, digging his fingers into Glenn to steady him and glancing around to make sure none of the walkers had noticed the disturbance. They hadn’t. Rick asked Glenn a question with his eyes and Glenn jerked a shaky nod. Rick flicked his head back toward the store and they took off.

This time, knowing how terrified Glenn was and remembering how hard it had been for the kid to keep quiet the first time they’d tried this he took Glenn by the hand and led him through the herd. Glenn latched onto him like a literal lifeline and managed to keep quiet all the way back to the storefront. Rick looked up to find Merle already peering through the scope of his rifle at the tanks. Andrea’s blonde head shone against the sky and slowly enough not to gain the attention of the walkers clustering all around Rick raised his hand.

He heard Andrea shout “now!” and Merle’s gunshot rang out across the street. Immediately a ball of flame engulfed the wreck at the intersection and every walker head in sight turned towards it. Rick squeezed Glenn’s hand in a bone-crushing grip and willed him to stay still as the herd began to move. They picked their way back into the building, letting the walkers shuffle past. Rick could hear the hunger in their wailing moans, saw the first few dozen wade right into the flames that licked at the gas-stained pavement. They went up, adding to the bonfire and drawing even more walkers in.

Glenn stared in horror and Rick didn’t let go of his hand. The stairwell door opened and Merle led the others out, his rifle across his back and his hand linked with Andrea’s. She was holding T-Dogg’s too and the three of them picked their way to the front to join Rick and Glenn. Silently, Rick nodded at them and led them back out into the street.

Most of the walkers had gone past by now, only a few dozen stragglers shuffling as fast as their rotting legs could manage toward the bonfire. Rick led them around the fence and into the parking lot, heading for the big white vans parked at the far end. The first one was empty and unlocked and he thanked his lucky stars. There were no keys but Merle grinned and punched open the drive shaft to get busy hot-wiring it. Rick swung around to the back, flinging the door open to find a few pallets of canned food and big sacks of flour. Bonus, he thought. He pulled a set of huge empty plastic crates out onto the pavement and kicked them aside, motioning for everyone to get in to the empty space. The others didn’t need telling twice and as the engine started up Rick slammed the door and hustled around to the passenger seat.

They made it to the highway in just a few minutes and Merle crowed at the roof.

“Goddamn, Friendly!” he grinned as he drove too-fast on the wrong side of the highway. “I gotta say, you got cajones of steel, my friend! No wonder you lasted so long last time.”

Rick sighed and tipped his head back against the seat. He could sleep for a goddamn week. “Merle. What the hell?”

Merle chuckled. “Yeah.” He agreed. “Looks like we got ourselves a bit a’ talkin’ to do, don’t it?” he said.

“So start talkin’.” Demanded Rick.


	5. Got Myself a Reset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight continued warning for mild descriptions of suicide

“Yer boy and yer wife. They’s safe.” Merle began and Rick felt something in his gut unclench. “That Carol, too. Least they was when we left the quarry.”

“When was that?” Rick demanded.

“Yesterday.” Merle said. “Spent the night outside the city in a little house we cleared and came in first thing this morning.”

“Why did you let them come in at all?” The first time around had been a total shit show and even high off his ass as Merle had been surely he would have remembered?

“Couldn’t talk ‘em out of it.” Merle admitted. “They’s all saying we needed supplies and they’s right. ‘Sides,” he flicked his eyes at Rick, “didn’t know if ya remembered. No one else seems ta.”

Rick swallowed and felt himself go cold. “No one?” Shane? Lori? Carol and Carl? “Not even Daryl?”

Merle grimaced but Rick couldn’t really pin down what the look meant. “Nah.” He gruffed. “And if you came a’ridin’ inta town like the dumb bastard ya was last time I knew we had to be here to pull your ass outta the fire. Tried to pick a store closer to the edge of town ya woulda come in from and give us a better chance a’ gettin’ out in one piece.”

Rick huffed. He supposed that made sense. Still, “Why on earth would Merle Dixon risk his life running through a herd of walkers for the guy that chained him to a roof and locked him in a cell?”

Merle shook his head with a grin. “I weren’t bullshittin’ ya back there, Friendly. I really am changed. Well, changin’.”

Rick turned in his seat to stare at the side of Merle’s head. Merle had been a royal pain in the ass last time around, but Rick thought back to those very last days with him, the changes he had seen in the older Dixon. He’d known seeing the way the group accepted Daryl, relied on Daryl, had been hard for Merle to process. Hell, it had been hard for Daryl. The younger Dixon had taken so long to open up to the group, to accept the place he had earned in their family. Even when they’d gotten to Alexandria Daryl had acted like he expected them to throw him out now that they had shelter and working toilets again. Rick knew the brothers’ past had made them cagey and mistrustful, ready to be dropped the minute they weren’t useful.

“I ain’t never done much thinkin’ in my life.” Merle said, lips tightening to cut off his habitual grin. “Always a man a’action. Dumb, fucked up, bullshit action lotsa times but just so long as it was action I didn’t much care. But since wakin’ up in that shit-hole trailer wonderin’ how in the hell I got back my right hand I had a lot a’ time to think.”

“When did you…” Rick floundered. How was he meant to describe what had happened to the pair of them? Time-warp? Quantum leap? “Reset?” he decided at last. It was the most accurate he could come up with.

Merle snorted. “Yeah, reset. Like a damn video game. That’s about the long and short of it, ain’t it? Anyway I came back ‘bout a month and a half a’fore the world went to shit. Thought I’d been dreamin’. Or trippin’. Gone on a little too extended a vacation, ya know?”

Rick snorted.

“But even though I thought all that shit was some damn hallucination it got me to thinkin’. And you know it was _your_ damn voice kept beating around in the ol’ brain-box.” He wobbled his head in an overly-officious parody and affected an even thicker drawl than his usual one. “‘Do you even know whah you do tha thangs you do?’”

“I ain’t from Alabama, Merle.” Rick snorted at the accent.

“Might as well be, ya bumpkin-ass lawdog.” Merle grumbled. “But the point is I figured it was about time at the ripe young age of forty-two that maybe I sit down and figure out why I do some of the dumb-fuck things I do. Got myself inta a rehab. Twenty-eight day miracle cure. Damn near thought Daryleena’s jaw was gon’ fall off the way it was flappin’ when I told ‘im I’s goin’.”

“You went to rehab?” Rick could hardly believe it. But he could admit Merle looked different. His skin wasn’t so sallow, his eyes not quite as sunk-back into his head as they had been the first time they’d met. He wasn’t sweating for no particular reason and in general he gave off less of the on-the-edge-of-violence vibe Rick had recognized from too many criminals he’d taken in over the years.

“Not even court-mandated.” Merle said proudly. “Got myself a head-shrinker, too. Nice big bulldog-lookin’ bitch called Gayle. I tell you, Friendly, she was so ugly she’d make a freight train take a dirt road! And if I ain’t had mommy issues goin’ in I sure as fuck did comin’ out.” Merle rolled his eyes.

Rick couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“Mommy Dearest served me up a whole load a’ shit about abandonment and PTSD and all that crap you used to see on ladies’ mornin’ shows. But she made a few points in there, too.”

“Yeah, like what?” Rick found he was genuinely curious. He’d never really asked Daryl outright about his past, just pieced together little comments and habits and ticks until he had a vague picture. And the scars, of course. Merle had told him more in the last ten minutes than Daryl had in ten years and he hadn’t really even said anything yet.

“Dixons ain’t good for shit.” Merle said matter-of-factly. “Been drilled inta me my whole damn life. My daddy was a real piece of shit. Wife-beatin’, child-abusin’ son-of-a-bitch. An’ in our town everyone knew what he did ta my momma ta get me.”

Rick’s teeth clicked together as he realized what Merle was telling him.

“She stuck around with him cause I figure her options were pretty damn slim,” Merle continued, ignoring the heavy air between them. “But she never let me forget that I was my daddy’s son, not hers. I’s a good-for-nothin’ Dixon from birth.”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “Why are you tellin’ me all this?” he demanded. Merle was a manipulative bastard when he needed to be. Rick had seen him lead Daryl around by the nose just by calling him “little brother”, had seen the effortless way he got under everyone’s skin for entertainment. If this was Merle trying to trick Rick into feeling sorry for him by tapping into Rick’s very obvious protective streak Rick wasn’t going to fall for it.

“Cause, Friendly,” Merle shot him an exasperated glare, “I got ta see somethin’ there at the end that I ain’t never thought I’s gonna see. A Dixon bein’ one of the good guys. Daryl got himself a real little family, got the balls to stand up ta me and do somethin’ cause it was the right thing ta do, not ‘cause it was what a Dixon’s always done. Figured maybe it weren’t about bein’ a Dixon. Maybe it was just about not bein’ a prick. My brother acted like he expected me ta just be a good guy all of’a sudden, too. An’ then I go and let the black chick go an’ get mysel’ killed ’cause by then I’d done so much wrong it was the only right thing I could think ta do.”

Rick studied him. “You said you thought it was a dream.” He said finally.

Merle shook his head. “How many addicts decide to get their shit cleaned up because of a dream? I been to rehab before an’ I can tell you _plenty._ Hell, once met a chick who said her damn dog told her he hated her while she was tripping balls and that made her want to get herself clean. Don’t question that shit.”

Rick chuckled. “Ok. So you got straight. Then what?”

“Then turned out the whole thing actually fuckin’ happened!” Merle shook his head. “I’s fresh outta rehab an’ lookin’ for a job - an honest ta goodness nine to five, Friendly! - and the world goes all fucked up again. I thought I was goin’ crazy when I saw the news reports. Once I realized it was true I grabbed Daryl and we made a run for it. Headed straight to that quarry and just waited. He thought I was out of my nut, back on crank again but I guess he figured the plan was solid whether I was sober or not.”

“Why bring him there? Why not head out on your own?” Rick had no idea why he was planting that seed in Merle’s head. If Daryl didn’t remember Rick and the rest there was nothing to say he wouldn’t follow Merle if the older Dixon decided to head off. Hell, even after over a year with the group Daryl had almost done just that.

Merle snorted. “You don’t listen real good, do ya, Friendly?” he scoffed. “I tol’ ya. I got ta see my baby brother bein’ a man fer the first time. Don’t think that don’t mean nothin’ ta me. His family was gon’ be at that quarry, and I’s gonna get him there to find ‘em. Got myself a ‘reset’, like ya said, seemed like a good time to start trying the right thing and see how it goes.”

Rick considered. Merle had sacrificed himself in the end, let Michonne out and gone to try and take out the Governor on his own. Rick never would have expected it from him but Merle had managed to surprise them all. Maybe he really had turned over a new leaf. He’d certainly done everything right so far.

“Did you tell him?” Rick asked. “Daryl? About before?”

“Tried ta.” Merle said. “But like I said, he thought I was outta my gourd. Then Jim and Dale showed up an’ I tried. Dale ain’t liked me from the start but I got Jim ta listen.”

“Did he believe you?” Rick asked, trying to remember the man. He’d only known him for a few days, known how close he’d been to being the same greif-stricken wreck of a man as Jim had been if Lori and Carl hadn’t made it. He found he couldn’t even remember Jim’s face.

“Nah, not at first.” Merle’s face was blank. “Then I guess it came back to ‘im.”

Rick frowned, not liking the dark edge to Merle’s tone. “What do you mean?”

“That night he we was sittin’ round the fire eatin’ and Daryl said he wanted ta go set up some snares for squirrels. Jim just started ta shake. Screamed. Started yellin’ ‘bout bein’ bit and sunstroke and all the rest. Started writhin’ around in the dirt like a dyin’ copperhead. Freaked out an’ took his pistol ta hisself.”

“He shot himself?” Rick gasped.

“Right in the ol’ brainpan.” Merle nodded. “Got blood all over ma plate.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Merle sighed. “Tried again with Jacqui. She always had her head on straight an’ when she showed up I thought maybe she mighta recognized me. So I asked her if she remembered before. She didn’t say nothin’, just said g’night an’ went to her tent. Next morning we found her zipped up in there, throat cut and trying ta rip her way out to snack on us. Ate up that niece of hers and the white chick they bunked with.”

“Fuck.” Rick pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. They’d killed themselves? He’d already lost two people, four with the two Jacqui had killed, just in the first few days? “Why?”

“Dunno.” Merle shrugged. “Figured maybe rememberin’ all at once a’fore yer ‘sposed ta fried yer head or somthin’. Stopped tryin’ ta tell anyone case I boiled their brains out again. Then you come waltzin’ in ta that store and I knew the second I seen ya, ya remembered.”

Rick tilted his head. “How?”

Merle laughed. “You ain’t look like thepansy-ass wifey’s boy ya was when we first met. Y’look like ya seen shit. Done shit. Ain’t no hidin’ that look.” Merle grinned but Rick nodded.

“And you’re sure no one else remembers?” Rick asked and Merle shrugged.

“Sure as I can be without poppin’ more gourds.” He said.

“What happened to Morales?” Rick asked, trying to remember the man’s first name. He’d liked Morales that first time. “Did you leave him in camp?”

“Nah.” Merle sucked on his teeth. “Never showed up at all. Dunno why. Figure maybe he remembered and didn’t wanna come this way, maybe somethin’ got him first. But he ain’t here.”

“Huh.” Rick grunted.

“Yer boy Shane is still a world-class prick.”

“Coming from you that’s practically a complement.” Rick shot and Merle laughed.

“He’s keepin’ the weaker folks together, though, I’ll give him that. What’re ya gon’ do about him this time around?”

Rick chewed on his lip. He’d been avoiding thinking about Shane as much as he had about Lori. “I’d planned on tellin’ him everything, tryin’ to jog his memory, maybe make him see the light before it’s too late.” He admitted.

Merle shook his head vehemently. “Bad idea, amigo.” He said, miming a small explosion in front of his forehead.

Rick frowned. “I told Morgan everything and he didn’t lose it.”

“Who the hell’s Morgan?” Merle asked as he threaded the van around an abandoned fender-bender.

“A friend.” Rick said, pulling out his walkie as he remembered that Morgan was still waiting for his signal. “We’re picking him and his son up on the way to the quarry.” He flicked the radio on and raised it. “Morgan. Morgan, come in. You out there?”

“Rick?” Morgan’s relieved shout immediately came back. “Jesus, it’s been hours! You scared the shit out of me!”

Rick smiled. “We got everyone and we’re heading to the camp. Bring the cruiser up and we’ll meet you at the on-ramp to the highway.”

“Got it.” Rick could hear the cruiser starting up in the background as the call cut off.

Merle glanced at him. “This Morgan fella weren’t with y’all at the prison.” He observed. “He from before or after?”

Rick smiled. “Both.” He said.

He directed Merle off the highway to the little back street he’d left Morgan and Duane on, waving when the cruiser came in sight. They didn’t bother to stop, just headed in a little convoy to the quarry. As they wound through the familiar hills and got closer Rick struggled not to fidget. Carl. Lori, Shane, Dale. Carol. Daryl. They were all there. And not a one of them remembered. Jesus. This was going to be harder than he’d realized. According to Merle it was obvious he wasn’t the same man they’d left in that hospital, and he didn’t really doubt it. Ten years of the shit he’d been through left marks. Big ones.

“How long you last, after me?” Merle interrupted his thoughts as they found the little access road.

Rick scratched at his beard and tried not to think about how it had all ended. “‘Bout eight years, I think.” He said and Merle whistled.

“So it weren’t the Governor that got ya?” he asked, seeming inordinantly pleased about that.

“Nah.” Rick looked out the window. “Came to the prison with a damn tank, killed Hershel, plenty of others. We got the bastard but ended up losing the prison eventually, lotta good people, too. Wound up on the road. Found a place up near D.C. That’s where we were at the end.”

“An’ my brother? He still hanging around your sorry ass eight years ahead?”

Rick pinched his eyes shut as he felt the ghost of Daryl’s forehead pressed to his, Daryl’s tears pattering on Rick’s cheek. “Yeah.” Was all he could manage to say.

Merle shot him a look, maybe catching the little crack in Rick’s voice, and sobered up. “Y’all… uh, y’all find me when ya came fer the Governor?”

Rick sighed. “Daryl’d gone after you.” He said and Merle paled. “Said he found you there, turned. Had ta…” Rick left it at that and Merle swore.

“Weren’t supposed ta go like that.” Merle muttered, lifting his hand to his mouth to chew on his thumbnail in a gesture that reminded Rick so strongly of Daryl that his stomach ached.

“The black chick make it out? Come fer y’all fer sellin’ her ta the Governor?” Merle asked.

Rick snorted. “Nah. She came back. Became one of us for real. It was her that got the Governor. She was there, at the end, too.”

“Well damn.” Merle actually grinned. “I knew she weren’t gonna lay up and die, but damn. She’s a real badass, huh?”

Rick smiled. “Yeah.” God, he missed Michonne. She and Daryl had been his closest confidants, his voices of reason, the first ones to back him up or back him off. How was he meant to do this without them? Without everyone else as he knew them? They weren’t just his family, they were part of him, his right and left hands. Morgan had been the opposite side of Rick’s coin, the mirror showing him how things were and how they could be. Glenn had been his mercy, Carol his wrath. Aaron was his humanity and Maggie his logic. Abraham and Rosita had been soldiers to the end and Tara so adaptable it made his head spin. And Carl. When had he learned to rely on his son like a brother? But Daryl and Carol didn’t remember. Abraham and Michonne were miles away. And now the only person Rick had who actually knew anything about how the world really worked was Merle Fucking Dixon.

As they pulled up the winding track around the pond and Rick caught the flash of a tent between the bushes he turned to Merle.

“I’m going ta find my family.” He told him. “All of them. And if you’re not bullshitting me and you really want your brother to have us back, then fine. I won’t kick you out and risk losing him. But you’d better not pull any shit.” He didn’t bother trying to hide the menace in his tone. Merle knew what was at stake for him, for all of them. “Last time we met I was half-crazy. But I lived a long, long time after that. I ain’t the man you met at that prison, and I ain’t gonna hesitate ta take you out if you threaten us. Got me?”

Merle didn’t answer for a moment, focusing on the narrow road as he pulled the van to a halt. As he switched off the engine and sat back in the seat, he looked Rick in the eyes.

“I ain’t gon’ roll over for you like some bitch if I think ya’s about ta do some dumb-fuck thing that’ll get us all killed.” He warned. “But yeah. I got you. I’ve got myself a reset and I ain’t gon’ piss it away.”

Rick nodded. “Good enough.” He said and slipped his seatbelt off. He opened the door but Merle grabbed his arm.

“Y’ain’t gonna try to tell no one, right?” he asked and Rick saw genuine fear in Merle’s face. He chewed his lip. He wondered if it was because Merle really worried whoever Rick told might kill themselves or because he was screwed if some of them remembered what Merle had done last time around. He supposed it didn’t matter.

“Not for now.” He said. “If we don’t know why Jacqui and Jim reacted that way then you’re right. It’s not safe. I’m not gonna risk Carol or Daryl or any of the others’ sanity.”

Merle let out a relieved sigh and sat back. “Well good, then.”

They stepped out into the heat and Rick felt his legs wobble. Christ, he needed rest. He heard Andrea’s sister call for her, saw her blond head streak past him. Glenn trotted by, slapping Rick on the shoulder with a congratulatory grin.

“Welcome to camp.” He said as he slipped away.

Morgan appeared with Duane, cocking an eyebrow as he took in Rick’s sorry state.

“Y’alright?” he asked and Rick closed his eyes, trying to steel himself for what he knew was next.

“Dad! Dad!”

Rick’s eyes flew open as he heard footsteps littler than he remembered pelting towards him. Then Carl was slamming into him, a few feet shorter than Rick was used to and all freckles and tears. Rick gave in, clinging to his son as he collapsed into the gravel. Jesus, his hair, the smell of him! He pressed his face into Carl’s shoulder and ignored the pain in his gunshot wound.

“Carl. Carl.” He muttered over and over. Carl wasn’t dead. He wasn’t ripped to shreds and bleeding out in the dark. He was here and whole and Rick thought he might vomit from pure relief.

“I’m sorry.” Carl murmured against Rick’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Carl.” Rick choked. 

“I couldn’t hold her. They grabbed her hair and I couldn’t pull her away.” Carl sobbed so quietly no one else would hear. “She was screaming, Dad. I tried! I was holding onto Michonne but they had Judy’s hair-“

It was like someone had poured ice-water down his back. Rick went rigid, breath stuck in his aching chest until he thought he’d suffocate.

“Carl?” he croaked and Carl leaned back just enough to look up at him. Rick got what Merle meant. This wasn’t his son from ten years ago looking up at him. The rounder face was there, the baby fat he’d lose and then some still clinging to him, but those eyes. Ten years left marks.

“I’m sorry.” Carl whispered and Rick grabbed the back of his head, pressing a kiss to his brow.

“Ain’t your fault.” He murmured. “I couldn’t protect you.”

They huddled there for a moment, shaking and marvelling that they each had the other, before Rick looked up. Shane. Shane was staring at him, eyes wide and guilty and flooded with tears. Rick had thought maybe he’d mistaken that look last time but his brother really was so glad to see him. At least there was that.

“Rick?” Lori was there and Rick felt his heart clench, part fear and part love. God, she looked beautiful. He stood, keeping Carl sitting in one arm like he hadn’t been able to do in years, and surged forward to kiss her cheek. He tangled his hand in her long hair and just held her, remembering all the times at the prison when all he’d had was a ghost. She was so much more solid than he remembered, not yet the bird-like stick person her pregnancy had forced her to be. She had muscle and skin that didn’t hang off her like a loose coat.

“Lori.” He murmured as she pressed kiss after kiss to his face.

When he looked up he caught something in her eyes. She was looking over his shoulder, back towards Shane, shock and disgust in her face. Rick knew he had to put a stop to that right now if things weren’t going to go like last time. The animosity between Lori and Shane had led to so much trouble.

He turned, letting Carl slide to the ground, and took three long strides to Shane. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and ignored the way Shane flinched, like he expected Rick to hit him. God he’d missed Shane! Despite it all, he’d missed Shane.

“You saved my life.” He said loud enough for everyone around to hear. Shane stared at him. “Shane, I heard you in that coma. I know what happened.” He said. “You thought I was dead and you locked me in so the walkers wouldn’t get me. I know you did everything you could and it _worked_ , Shane. I’m alive now because of you.”

Rick was pretty sure it was only Shane’s years of police training that kept the shotgun in his hand from falling to the dirt. “I… I listened.” He said shakily and Rick could see out of the corner of his eye every face in camp turned toward them. Good. They needed to hear this. “I listened but you didn’t have no heart beat.” Shane told him. “You were dead.”

Rick nodded. “I know.”

“I’da never, I’da never left you if I knew!” Shane’s voice was cracking.

“I know.” Rick repeated and dug his fingers into Shane’s shoulders. “Shane, I know. You got Lori and Carl here, didn’t you?” Shane nodded, looking like he might be sick. “You kept them safe. I can never, _never_ repay you for that.”

“Rick…” Shane gasped and Rick pulled him into a bone-crunching hug. Jesus. He’d thought he’d have some lingering wariness towards Shane but there was none. He was still pissed, sure, the man had tried to kill him, after all. But this Shane wasn’t that Shane. This Shane was still his brother, before the new fucked-up world had driven him insane.

“Well ain’t this a purty picture!” Merle’s voice cut through the haze of Rick’s confused emotions.

“Did you know?” Andrea murmured as Rick let go of Shane and turned back to Lori. The blond was smiling at Merle as the older Dixon scratched at his stubble.

“‘Course I knew.” Merle puffed and Rick rolled his eyes.

“He told me in the truck that my family was here.” Rick told her.

“You know that trash?” Shane interrupted and Rick felt his hackles rise, despite himself. He didn’t even like Merle, but that level of prejudice was something of the old world. It had no place here.

“Shane.” Rick’s voice was a warning and Shane’s eyes widened.

“What?” Shane actually looked offended and Rick shook his head.

“C’mon.” Rick said, “I need some food and to wash up, and then we gotta have a talk. Carl? How about you show me where I can find some soap and get this shit out of my hair?”

“Language!” Lori snapped, then blinked. “Sorry.” She giggled nervously and Rick recognized his wife’s reaction to being overwhelmed. His wife. He ducked back to press one more kiss to her cheek, ignoring the way he could feel Shane’s eyes on his back. God, he’d have to sort this out fast.

Rick bought them some privacy by whispering to Lori that he just needed a few minutes with Carl, to explain. She gave a tearful nod and headed over to help unloading the van. Shane offered Rick some clean clothes - they’d be too big but Rick took them gratefully - and a bottle of body wash and Carl led him down to the pond and the little creek that led out of it. Once Rick had stripped down and ducked into the pond, scrubbed viciously at his hair and beard, and was sitting on the bank again with a towel around his waist and his skin warming in the sun he turned to Carl.

“How long have you remembered?” he asked.

Carl flicked a few pebbles into the creek, hugging his knees to his chest. “Since the first night after we left the house.” He said. “I woke up in the middle of the night in the back of Shane’s truck and I could hear Mom talking. Thought I was dreaming. Mom and Shane seem to think I’m traumatized. I guess that’s not the worst explanation for why I’m so different from what they remember.” He looked up. “You?”

“Woke up in the hospital.” Rick sighed, fingers wandering over his un-bandaged wound.

“You found Morgan.” Carl glanced up at the path back to camp. “Does he remember?”

Rick shook his head. “I told him everything but he doesn’t remember. Merle does, though.”

Carl nodded. “I thought so. He’s really different from before.”

“Do you trust it?” Rick asked.

Carl chewed the corner of his mouth. “I think he loves Daryl. And he saw what Daryl had with us.” He rested his head on his knees and for a moment he actually looked like the twelve-year-old he was now. “I miss Daryl.”

Rick reached out to ruffle his hair. “I know.”

“And Carol. She’s so different.” Carl sighed and tilted his head into Rick’s hand. “I guess I was too young to realize what an asshole her husband was before. I can’t believe she ever took that.”

Rick chuckled. “The Carol we know would have cut his nuts off and fed them to him.” He agreed and Carl laughed.

“I’ve nearly done that myself a few times now. Sophia’s alive.” He said. “I’ve been teaching her how to defend herself, what to do if she gets lost. I know Carol would want that if she remembered.”

Rick nodded proudly. “She would. Just make sure Ed doesn’t find out. Remember, you’re smaller now.”

“Yeah. Taking a page out of her book, though.” Carl told him. “Remember when we got to Alexandria? She played the timid housewife. It meant she floated under the radar and got to hear a lot of stuff she wouldn’t otherwise. I’m doing that now. People say all kinds of shit around kids because they think we’re not listening.”

“Oh yeah?” Rick grinned. “Like what?”

“Well Ed, for one.” Carl scowled and Rick clenched his teeth. “And Mom and Shane think they’re being _so_ subtle.” Carl rolled his eyes and Rick nearly choked. “I swear I’m gonna hurl one of these days. Right on Shane’s boots.”

Rick chuckled. The sting of the - well, maybe affair was a bit harsh, since in their minds he’d been dead - but that whole situation was still a painful thorn in his heart. To hear Carl talk about it like some tv show drama was just weird.

Carl twirled a stick between his chubby fingers. “Did you… did you survive? After that night?”

Rick felt his throat close and tears crowd his eyes. “No.” He said quietly.

Carl sighed. “I didn’t think so. I think I died first. Before Judy.” he said, his gaze distant. “I could hear her screaming right to the end. She held on so tight…” tears spilled down his cheeks and Rick tried to remember the last time he’d seen Carl cry about anything. Carl realized a moment later as they splashed onto his wrist and he gave a weak chuckle, swiping at his face in an all-too-adult gesture. “Being a kid again is so weird.” He said and Rick grinned through his own tears.

“Yeah, I bet. I feel like a damn newborn myself and I’m thirty-two.”

“You look like a kid.” Carl snickered. “I guess I don’t remember you ever being this young.”

Rick shoved at his shoulder playfully and Carl shoved back. “It’s annoying not to be able to do the things I know I know how to do.” Carl frowned, frustrated. “I know how to shoot, but my hands are so small now. And everything is heavier than I remember. It’s freaking weird.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Rick assured him.

Carl gave his eyes a dramatic roll. “Yeah, thanks Dad.” He said sarcastically. He sobered again too quickly. “Do you know… do you know if anyone else made it out?”

“Daryl.” Rick told him and Carl’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“He’s so weird now.” Carl said. “He’s kind of like Merle used to be. Sucks to see him like that.”

Rick scratched at his wound absently. “Merle said he tried to tell Jacqui and Jim the truth and they killed themselves. I don’t think we can risk Daryl or Carol like that.”

Carl frowned. “They’re stronger than Jim or Jacqui ever was.” He argued and Rick knew he had a point. They’d all been through a hell of a lot since they’d lost Jacqui. Maybe it was because of the way Jacqui and Jim had died that they went nuts when they found out the truth.

“Can’t risk it. Not until we find out more.” Rick repeated and Carl sighed.

“What are you going to do about Mom?” he asked. “And Shane?”

Rick chewed on his lip as he pulled on Shane’s shirt. “We’ve got a chance to do so many things differently.” He said as he tugged on his dirty jeans. Shane’s pants would have fallen straight off and he didn’t really feel like giving anyone in camp a show. “I’m gonna keep them alive.”

Carl’s face pinched. “You can’t let him get that close again.” He snapped and Rick tried not to shudder at how bizarre it was to hear that familiar harsh edge in Carl’s young voice. “If he looks like he’s going to do something like that again we’ve got to take him down before he gets the chance.”

Rick ran a hand through his curls to ruffle the last droplets out of them and nodded. “I know.” He said. “I know.”

“Good.” Carl stood up and dusted off the back of his pants. “C’mon. Let’s go get some food.”

Rick followed him back up the path, watching the way his little legs had to stretch to get over the rocks he would have been able to just step over before.

“Hey,” Rick said when they were nearly back to camp. “Can you teach Duane, too?”

Carl smiled. “Sure!” he said. “I can’t believe Morgan has his son back!”

“I know.” Rick agreed. “We gotta do everything we can to keep it that way.”

Carl nodded and jogged his way back into camp.


	6. Plans and Perspectives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter went somewhere I wasn’t quite expecting. Heed the rating, I guess. On a slightly random note writing in this sort of dialect makes for some very tedious spell-checking. I hope you enjoy and feedback is life!

That night was strange. The first minute he could Rick made a surreptitious loop of the perimeter, checking their noise-traps and realizing exactly how shitty their defences had been the first time. He recognized Carl’s hand in several of the new defenses, the pike-fence that would keep walkers from funnelling up the road or down the little gorge from the top of the hill above them. A few trip wires out beyond the noise-makers would slow anyone down, walker or human, and Rick could tell from the knots Hershel had shown them that they were Carl’s, not Merle’s. How he’d managed to convince the adults to add those Rick didn’t know but he felt a swell of pride for his son.

Once he got back Lori “introduced” Rick to everyone in camp. Not a single one of them recognized him. Dale was grumbling about parts for the RV and didn’t spare Rick more than a passing hello as he bitched at Glenn to pop the hood on the van they’d brought back. Andrea brought her sister Amy over to say hello and tell her how brave and resourceful Rick had been in helping them out of Atlanta. Amy smiled and kissed his cheek, her arm still linked with her sister’s. Rick just nodded, too unfamiliar nowadays with back-before curtesy to know what to say.

There were fewer people here than Rick remembered last time, even without the Morales family. Rick had to wonder how many had remembered the slaughter from his first few nights in camp and chosen to go anywhere else. How many had just died by random chance this time around? Still, he nodded politely at the handful of survivors who introduced themselves, letting them think that like Carl he was too traumatized for small talk. Lori leaned against him for a long time, pointing out all the things in camp they were using instead of what she thought he would be used to. She complained in what she must have thought was a stoic sort of way about the inconvenience of camp stoves and not having a laundry machine. Rick could only smile, remembering this younger, pampered version of his wife. He’d loved spoiling Lori back in the day, bringing her flowers and buying her pretty jewellery for every holiday. Then their lives had gotten complicated. Carl had grown a bit and Rick’s job took up more and more of his time. Lori had her stresses at the school and it had all started to fall apart. Then, just when he thought maybe they really weren’t going to make it that asshole had shot him. And when he woke up in this mess all the petty shit that had kept them apart, all her venomous words and his cold distance had seemed like small potatoes compared to what they were facing. Stupidly he’d thought the horror of this new world would pull them closer together, but instead it had fuelled her vicious side, her manipulation, and driven him to even more silence and cruelty. This time wouldn’t be like that. He knew who he was now, and more importantly, who he wasn’t.

Lori smiled up at him and he felt a sharp stab of loss. He pressed a few kisses into her hair and just enjoyed her warm body crowding into his side for a little while longer.

Carl sat with him most of the night, maybe enjoying as much as Rick did that he was small enough again to curl up in Rick’s lap and sleep. Shane avoided him like the plague. It was like he suddenly had a million things to do around camp and every time he saw Rick coming he swung the other way. For a second Rick feared Shane was remembering, but then he saw Shane glance at Lori and he realized. Shane wasn’t avoiding Rick, he was avoiding Lori. Catching the hard looks Lori shot him every time Shane got close Rick couldn’t blame him.

Carol was the hardest of all. She crept over to him while Carl was dozing and Lori and the rest had gone to start dinner, her arms crossed over her middle and her head angled down like she was ready to dodge a blow.

“Mrs. Peletier.” He said, trying to keep his heart out of his voice. He could see the bruising around one of her wrists and couldn’t help staring at it.

She blinked at him, fear written all over her face that he recognized her. “Officer Grimes.” She twittered like she thought he might arrest her just for saying hello.

“Carl told me about you.” Rick explained, hating that look. “He and your daughter are good friends.”

Carol’s whole body relaxed and she smiled brighter than Rick could remember seeing in years. “Oh, of course. He’s a good boy, your son.” She smiled down at Carl’s peaceful face.

Rick nodded. “He is. If you need anything,” he cut his eyes toward the fire where Ed sat like a great, belching lump in his camp chair, “you just let me know and I’ll take care of it. You hear me?” He knew his voice was too intense, knew by the way her eyes widened that she knew exactly what he was getting at. She stumbled back a step, lips pinching.

“Y-you’re, uh, you’re too kind, officer.” Her voice shook. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” She scurried away, joining Ed at their lonely fire. Carl blinked his eyes open and let them follow her.

“We’re going to have to do something about Ed. Soon.” He murmured and Rick nodded.

“Is no one else trying?”

“I tried a few times.” Merle appeared, squatting down beside Rick’s fire and twining his fingers across his knees. “But I can’t do nothin’ suspicious with these newbies an’ there ain’t been no opportune moment to take the dickweed out.”

Rick shook his head. “We can’t risk alienating Carol like that. This version of her still thinks she loves him.”

Carl made a gagging noise and Rick chuckled. “I know.” He agreed.

“So you remember, too, huh little man?” Merle asked, tilting his head at Carl.

Carl nodded. “Yeah, since before we got here. Wasn’t expecting you to be all goody-goody.”

Merle grinned. “Yeah, neither was yer daddy.”

“It’s weird. You serious about all this?” Carl didn’t bother to explain what he meant, knowing Merle would understand.

“As a heart-attack.” Merle nodded.

“Alright then. You know if you screw up I’ll get you if my dad doesn’t, right?”

Merle chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, pipsqueak. Guessin’ you know to slit my throat in my sleep, too, bein’ such a small-fry.”

“Or just shoot you.” Carl shrugged. Rick squeezed him a little tighter and Merle shook his head, amused.

“Daryl’ll be back tomorrow.” he told them, chucking a few small sticks on the fire. “Went huntin’ when we left for Atlanta and we made a rule that ya gotta be back in camp in three days or the other’s gonna come out after ya.”

“Good rule.” Rick nodded.

“Once he’s back we can maybe get these folks movin’. Yer boy Shane ain’t listened ta me when I tol’ him this place ain’t defensible. Guess my bein’ here a’fore him don’t strengthen my point.”

“We’ll go to the farm first.” Rick told him. “I’ve got it circled on a map in the cruiser so you’d better memorize the location in case we get separated. Hershel and his girls are there.”

“The little blond one and Maggie?” Merle’s face twisted. “Man, I hope she don’t remember me!” He admitted. Carl glared at him and Merle shook his head. “I know, little man, I know. If she do remember I ain’t gon’ waste no time in grovellin’ like a beat dog. Promise.”

Carl seemed satisfied enough at that. Morgan came over holding a few plates of food and took a seat next to Rick. He handed one to Rick and looked over at Merle. “Andrea says go make yourself a plate if you want one.” He said and Merle shook his head.

“Ah, I’ll get myself one later. You Morgan?” he asked as if he didn’t know. Morgan nodded, eyes cagey. “I’m Merle Dixon. Rick here tell you everythin’? ‘Bout before?”

Morgan stared at him for a minute, then glanced at Rick. “Uh, what…”

“Its okay, Morgan.” Carl smiled at him. “The three of us remember. We’re the only ones, though, so don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

“An’ don’t go doin’ nothing crazy if ya start havin’ flashbacks, a’right?” Merle warned.

Morgan blinked at the two of them, dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

Merle told him about Jacqui and Jim, Carl frowning along as he learned exactly what had happened to the two of them. “Rick here’s damn lucky you didn’t blow yer stack when he told ya the truth.”

Morgan gulped. “You, you know me in the future?” he asked.

Merle shook his head. “Nah. Ya wasn’t part a’ Rick’s group when I was around.”

“I did.” Carl told Morgan. “But I never got to meet Duane. My dad wants me to train him to defend himself. You okay with that?”

Morgan shot a look at Rick and Rick saw surprise and anger there. “You planin’ on tellin’ me about this idea?”

Before Rick could answer Carl laughed. “My dad’s used to doing what needs to be done. Asking permission and opinions leads to chaos, usually. That’s why I’m asking if you’re okay with it, ‘cause I know he would just do it and right now you’re all still acting like we’re back in the old world and just doing is going to piss people off. But he’s right. Duane needs to know how to defend himself. We all do.”

Morgan looked at Carl like he hadn’t seen him before. “You sure don’t talk like a ten-year-old.” He said.

Carl grinned. “That’s because I’m almost twenty-two and I’ve lived through the absolute shitstorm that’s coming. Besides, I’m not ten,” he reached over to swipe the hard little biscuit Rick recognized as one ofCarol’s short-ration creations off Morgan’s plate. “I’m twelve.”

Morgan shook his head. “I tell ya, Rick, your whole family is nuts.” He passed Carl his plate and stood. “I’ll get another one. And you go ahead and teach Duane to defend himself. If y’all are telling the truth, even if you ain’t, he’s going to need to know how. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like blow his own arm off, though.”

Carl nodded. “It’s like Alexandria all over again, isn’t it, Dad?” he observed as Morgan trotted back to the main kitchen fire.

Rick nodded. “Except this time we don’t have any walls to keep them safe while they learn how it is now.”

“That where you’re thinkin’ a’ takin’ everybody?” Merle asked. “That the place you mentioned up near D.C.?”

Rick scratched at his beard and nibbled at his own biscuit. It was a long, dangerous trek to D.C.. This early in the disaster he had no idea what was waiting for them all between here and there and no way to rely on anyone but the three of them to keep themselves alive. “Nah.” He said finally. “I mean, yeah, that’s the place, but gettin’ there was rough the first time and that’s when we knew what we were doin’. We’ll regroup at the farm and train folks up. Glenn, T-Dogg, Carol and Maggie. They’re our best fighters. Or they will be. Morgan, too, but he never really worked in formations.” He thought of Morgan spinning his staff with effortless calm. They’d all learned pretty quickly to give him space in a fight. “Shane if we can get him on our side. Once we’re ready we’ll take the prison back. The sooner we can get behind those fences, the better.”

“We lost T-Dogg last time.” Carl reminded him. “And that was after that winter where we actually learned how to be useful.”

“I know.” Rick sighed. “But the weaker we are the more we need those fences.”

“Goin’ back there’s gon’ put us right back on the Governor’s hit-list, ya know.” Merle told them.

Rick nodded. “And this time we aren’t goin’ to dance around him. If we can get to him before his daughter dies we’ll tell him everything. If he goes nuts and kills himself he’s saving us the trouble. If not he can keep her alive and keep himself from slippin’. If we’re too late…” Rick shrugged. “We slip in one night before he’s realized we have the prison, keep it quiet, kill him, and be done with it. Without him the whole town falls apart. Anyone who wants to join us at the prison can and anyone who doesn’t can find their own way.”

Merle stared at him a moment. “Ya really ain’t the same as ya were when I kicked the bucket, huh? You would just murder a man in his sleep like that?” Rick nodded and Merle whistled. “That’s cold, Friendly.”

“That’s surviving, Merle.” Rick told him.

As the others started to join them the conversation was cut off. Andrea ended up bringing Merle a plate and settling next to him, Amy on her other side. Glenn and Dale settled across from him and Shane finally made an appearance.

“Y’all got some food?” he asked quietly, eyes darting everywhere. He stared at Rick for a while, looking like all he wanted to do was reach across the fire and grab him up, hug him and not let go. Then he caught himself, or saw Rick looking back, and suddenly his eyes were everywhere else. When Lori slid back into place beside Rick Shane actually turned his body away from them, facing Morgan and Duane where they huddled beside Rick’s family. Rick wondered if this was what had started Shane’s downfall, the guilt that clearly was crushing the life out of him. Last time Rick had been too caught up in his own shit to notice.

“Yeah, thanks, Shane.” Rick said quietly and Shane twitched. “Y’all have done pretty good up here.” He observed. Shane gave him a little smile.

“Ain’t toomany geeks findin’ their way up here. I don’t know if it’s just the altitude or what.”

“They go downhill easier.” Rick agreed and Shane quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What you know about ‘em?” he asked.

“Well,” Rick chewed on the little hunk of meat he recognized as squirrel - Daryl’s doing or Merle’s? he wondered - and tried to think what to tell them all. He couldn’t just tell them all the truth. But maybe he could stretch it a little. “I’ve been awake a while now. Not too long after y’all had to leave.”

Shane dropped his head and Lori squeezed Rick’s waist.

“I’ve been survivin’, on my own.” He cut a look at Morgan, trying to hint to him to play along. “Then with Morgan. An’ I learned how these things move. They come to light and sound, quick movements. They’re more dangerous if they get worked up into a frenzy but they don’t attack their own.”

“That’s how he got us out.” Glenn said as he picked at his portion of squirrel. Rick nearly laughed when he saw the delicately veiled disgust on the kid’s face as he forced himself to take a bite. That would get beaten out of him all too soon.

“What was?” Lori asked, gazing up at Rick like he was the hero in a storybook. She’d always loved that he was a cop, a hero. Maybe it had appealed to her spoiled side to be the princess to his white knight. She was going to be disappointed in who he was now, he was sure.

“He dressed up like a walker, covered himself in their guts, and walked right through them.” Glenn said. The group around the fire went eerily silent and Rick could feel every eye in camp turn to him. Lori leaned back, shocked.

“That’s… that’s…” he could tell by the way her hand fluttered at her throat she was going to be sick.

“That’s damn smart, is what it is.” Merle interrupted. “Got us all out of a real sticky situation, I tell ya.”

“I thought I was going to piss myself just walking through a whole group of them like that.” Glenn agreed cheerfully and Lori shot him a glare.

“Language.” She snapped and Rick put a hand on her thigh. She looked at him, lips tense and he felt a pang of sympathy for her. How had he not seen this the first time? Lori was good at keeping it together. For Carl, for the kids in her class. She was good at looking like she was calm and collected when inside she was a tornado of worry and fear. Right now her face was a giant neon sign that was screaming “terrified, terrified!”. He could see it and he pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead and feeling her melt against him again. Rick nearly laughed as he realized that eight years without her, eight years of becoming anything but the white knight she’d thought she married had made him a better husband to her than the twelve years of marriage that had come before.

Morgan put his clean plate aside and clasped his hands across his knees. “Rick told me everyone is infected, that no matter how you die, you turn. Explains a whole lot.”

“Yeah we found that out with Jacqui.” Amy sighed. Andrea wrapped an arm around her sister and rubbed her shoulder.

“We’ve all got to be quieter, all the time. No place is safe, least of all here.” Rick told them and Shane frowned.

“We got a perimeter.” Shane explained. “Guards posted up top the RV all night.”

“It’s not enough.” Rick insisted. “It’s not just walkers we need to worry about. People are more dangerous. Pretty soon they’re gonna get desperate, get crazy. They’re the real threat now. And a few lines of noisemakers and trip wires aren’t going to keep them out.”

“Rick,” Lori gripped his hand. “Don’t you think you should wait until Carl’s asleep before you talk about this?”

“He’s right, Mom.” Carl piped up, setting his clean plate aside. Rick vaguely remembered his son turning his nose up at the camp food back at the beginning, leaving the things he didn’t like on his plate for Lori to eat or throw away. His Carl had left that sort of pickiness behind nearly a decade ago. “Any scrap of safety we get is only as good as how far we’ll go to defend it.” Carl told her. “If walkers come up that hill or down from the top we’re trapped here. The quarry’s at our back and we can’t go running down that path in the middle of the night without breaking our ankles or our heads.”

Everyone stared at Carl and Rick ruffled his hair, a warning. Carl seemed to realize his mistake and slumped back against Rick, curling his fist against his cheek in a way that made him look years younger.

“We used to play that monster game on Nikki’s playstation.” Carl said in a small voice and Rick marvelled as his son forced tears down his cheeks. In an instant he went from eerily authoritative to a scared, vulnerable little kid in everyone’s eyes. “You had to pick a camp and defend it. You were never supposed to pick one that trapped you in in case the monsters came swarming. This place is like that.”

“This isn’t a video game, Carl.” Andrea told him gently and Rick felt Carl stiffen in annoyance at her gentle tone. But the boy didn’t answer back.

“But it’s a solid point.” Merle cut in. “Back in the sand trap you ain’t never get yourself inta a place ya can’t get out of at least three ways. Not if ya wanted to leave with yer nuts intact.”

“Merle!” Lori hissed and Merle raised his hands, exasperated.

“We can’t move this many people safely.” Glenn chimed in, glancing nervously around at the couple other fires that dotted the camp. Carol, Sophia and Ed’s, the older couple whose names Rick had already forgotten. “That’s what got us in trouble today; too many people all moving together.”

“Where else are we supposed to go, anyway?” Dale demanded. “In case you haven’t noticed, the world is running a little short of five star hotels at the moment.”

Rick motioned toward the cruiser. “I know a place.” He said. “Got it marked on a map. ’S a farm. An old friend lives there. Lots of open fields so we’ll see a threat comin’ long before it hits us. He’ll have food and clean water, a roof. And if we work hard we can make a place there.” He didn’t bring up the prison yet, knew they weren’t ready to hear it.

“What friend is this?” Lori asked and Rick smiled at her.

“Friend of my dad’s.” He lied easily. “Way back. Hershel Greene. We can leave in the mornin’, get there by nightfall.”

Shane was already shaking his head. “Rick, these folks are barely keepin’ it together here.” He gestured at the other fires. “We just got to feelin’ like maybe we got a bit of peace, a chance at gettin’ through this. They ain’t gonna just pull stakes and move ‘cause you got a friend with a nice bit a’ land.”

Rick ground his teeth in frustration. “Shane-”

“You’re tired.” Lori cut in, gripping his hand tight. “Rick, you only just got here. Why don’t we go get you to bed and we can talk about all this in the morning?”

“Rick’s right.” Morgan spoke up. Duane was sitting beside his father, eyes distant as he stared into the fire. “This place ain’t safe. Y’all should move somewhere where every little sound don’t echo, learn to keep your voices soft. If Atlanta’s as bad as they say it is,” he motioned to Merle and Glenn, “then pretty soon the walkers will start walkin’, lookin’ for food. If we’re only half a day’s drive then we’re only a few days walk for however many of ‘em decide to come this way.”

Everyone looked at him, the silence only broken by the crackling of the fire.

“Lori’s right.” Andrea said and Rick tried not to glare at the blond’s tone. Andrea had always liked to take charge, boss everyone around, even or maybe especially when she had no idea what she was talking about. “Today’s been a rough one. Let’s all get some sleep and we’ll hit it again in the morning, okay?”

Rick was about to argue but Carl squeezed his thumb and Rick looked down. Carl met his eyes and gave a tiny shake of his head. Rick sighed.

“Alright.” He said. “But the kids should all sleep in the RV from now on. ’S the only walls we got and they’re the most likely to get in trouble if something comes stumbling through here in the middle of the night.”

Dale glanced over at Carol’s fire and frowned. “I don’t know that you’ll have a great chance of convincing Ed to give up his daughter like that.” He warned. “But you’re right. They’re welcome to it. I’ll take watch tonight anyway.”

“He don’t have a choice.” Shane growled and Rick started at the aggression in his tone. Before he could react Shane was up and sauntering over to Ed’s fire the same way he’d used to saunter up to the driver’s side of a car he’d stopped for speeding, obnoxiously confident. He hefted his shotgun over his shoulder and cocked one hip out and Rick nearly laughed at the completely unthreatening posture. Before, that level of open ease would have been intimidating. But Rick had learned years ago that someone standing that casually would be too slow to defend themselves from attack. He glanced at Carl who rolled his eyes, clearly agreeing.

“Carol, Ed.” Shane nodded and Rick saw Ed stiffen at Carol’s name being put ahead of his. He knew Shane had done that deliberately to get under the asshole’s skin. “We’re puttin’ all the kids in the RV at night from now on.” He said and Carol’s eyes flashed to Ed. Rick clenched his fists as she cringed away from her husband and the ugly scowl that crossed his face.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Walsh?” he grumbled, crushing the empty beer can in his hand and tossing it into the fire pit. Carl must have felt Rick’s tension and slithered out of his lap, perching on the end of the log where Duane sat and watching Ed with narrowed eyes.

“I’m the one’s tellin’ you how it is, Ed.” Shane soughed easily. He turned to Sophia, who sat wide-eyed across the fire from her parents. “Little lady, why don’t you head over there and sit with Carl and Duane, huh?”

Sophia glanced at her father, then at Carol who gave her a tremulous smile.

“Don’t you tell my girl what to do!” Ed bellowed, heaving himself upward. Shane dropped the shotgun from his shoulder and took a menacing step forward but before anyone could throw a punch Rick was between them, his hunting knife pressed to Ed’s neck and one of his smaller knives pushing into the crotch of Ed’s saggy jeans.

“Sit down, Ed.” Rick said, deadly calm.

“Jesus Christ, Rick!” Glenn hollered and Rick heard Carl shush him.

Ed Peletier snarled at Rick over the blade of the knife and Rick nearly felt a twinge of pity for the dumb bastard.

“What you gonna do, Sheriff?” Ed spat, too loud. “Stab me for tellin’ yer buddy here to fuck off?”

Rick smiled and pressed the blade that little bit sharper against the fat man’s neck. “Nah.” He drawled quietly. “I’m gonna kill ya for yellin’ like an idiot and bringing the walkers down on these folks. You keep your mouth shut and maybe you live through the night. You yell like that again and you won’t have breath enough to do it a third time. You hear me?”

Ed must have finally wised up to the icy promise in Rick’s gaze and he gulped, scraping his Adam’s apple over Rick’s blade. “Y’you, you can’t just-“

“Well looks like he did.” Shane interjected.

“And if tomorrow mornin’ I see one mark on Carol your balls are mine.” Rick promised in a low tone, twisting the lower knife so it scraped against Ed’s fly. “Y’hear?”

A little hand touched Rick’s back and he spun, keeping one knife at Ed’s neck but bringing the other up to block. Carl stood behind him, completely unfazed at Rick’s sudden violence.

“He understands, Dad.” Carl said calmly. Then he trotted around the two men and took Sophia’s hand, leading her gently back to their fire. He spared a smile for Carol on his way by and Carol gave him a watery one in return.

With Sophia safely seated between Carl and Duane Rick shoved Ed back a few steps, sheathing his knives and glaring until the fat man dropped back into his camp chair. He glanced at Carol and saw fear in every line of her body. Godamnit. He ground his teeth and spun away before he could reach out and tug her with him. This was wrong. This was all so wrong. Carol shouldn’t be scared of anything, let alone one fat abusive asshole. Shane loped after him back to their fire and Rick could practically hear Shane’s eyes bugging the whole way.

“Rick.” Lori breathed when Rick sat back down beside her. He knew everyone was staring at him but he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d shown them too much, let loose the brutal killer he’d become too quickly and scared them all.

It was Carl that solved that problem, crawling back into Rick’s lap and curling up like a kitten.

“I don’t like your dad, Sophia.” He said softly and Sophia nodded, a few silent tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Thanks, Mr. Rick.” She said softly.

Rick smiled. “You’re welcome.” He said. “Your daddy ain’t gonna hurt you or your momma anymore, okay Sweet-pea?”

That, at least, got everyone to loosen back up a little.

Andrea cast a poisonous glance over at Ed, who sat fuming in the meagre light of their fire. “I don’t know why she puts up with that bastard.” She muttered and got a chorus of nods from around the fire.

Merle threw his arms up in a comically overdone stretch and yawned. “Well if that little tele-novella’s done I’m gon’ turn in.” He said, scratching his belly. “Got a lot ta do come mornin’.”

“We can talk then.” Shane said, throwing an appeasing glance at Rick. Rick sighed but nodded. There was no way after his little display that anyone was going to listen to him. Carl sat up, threw his arms around Rick’s neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Daddy.” He said and Rick chuckled.

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” he whispered low so no one would hear and Carl kissed him again.

“Have to.” He grinned. Then he scrambled off Rick’s lap and took Sophia’s hand again. “C’mon Duane.” He said. “We’ll show you the RV.”

As they trotted off, Dale trailing along behind with a chuckle, Lori took Rick’s hand.

“Rick.” She said and he remembered that tone. He looked down and found her eyes huge and dark and shining up at him. God, Lori. She didn’t say anything as she stood, just smiled at the others and tugged him away towards the tent where she and Carl slept. He followed and it felt like a dream. For a moment he forgot about the feeling of Shane’s eyes on his back, the snickering he could hear from Andrea and her sister. All he could see was Lori.

As Lori led him inside he could almost forget, almost believe he was here, back before he’d lost her and become someone new and dark. They were on their knees under the low tent-poles, only the light from the fire filtering through the tent’s side giving them any sort of sight.

“Rick.” She said again and he heard all the fear and longing and relief in her voice. “I thought… I thought.”

Rick couldn’t help himself, he kissed her. It began as a gentle press of lips but then she wound her long fingers in his curls and pressed herself against him and suddenly it was so much more. He guided her back onto the sleeping bag, cradling her beautiful face in his shaking hands. Her breath coming quick against his mouth, her long legs wrapping around his waist. As he slipped his hand beneath her shirt to find the soft, pale skin he’d never thought he’d feel again he wondered if maybe this was heaven.

“Lori.” He hissed as her nimble fingers undid his gun-belt, slipped into his jeans.

“Missed you.” She sighed as she wiggled out of her shorts and guided him into her. They groaned together, just loud enough for the sound to bounce between their lips, and he gave himself over to this.

“Lori.” She was here, she was alive. And whatever tomorrow brought, whoever he had to be then, he loved her.


	7. Inside Out

Rick lay awake long before the sun came up fully, watching the dappled light filtering through the trees outside splash along Lori’s cheek and dance through the fan of her hair where it spilled across the pillow. Her lips moved ever so slightly with every breath and her lashes twitched against her high cheekbones as she dreamed. He hoped it was of something sweet.

Lori. Once upon a time she’d been everything he’d ever wanted, beautiful and smart and so happy to be his. He’d been a kid when they’d started dating, just seventeen and so in love he couldn’t see straight. Then at nineteen he’d suddenly found out he was going to be a father and love turned into marriage and a home and a boy he couldn’t be prouder of if he tried. But that part of their lives was a memory now, faded and gray and tucked away with thoughts of barbecues and long hot days in the cruiser with Shane, waiting on a speed trap. It wasn’t him any more.

He let his fingers drift across her neck, so long and elegant, and smiled when she murmured and turned her face into the pillow. He’d loved her. God, he’d loved her. He’d carried his grief for her with him through most of a decade. She would always be the first woman he loved, maybe the only one. She was the mother of his children and touching her again had been paradise. But as the shimmering unreality of the night before drifted away Rick felt himself settling back into the present.

“Rick?” she muttered, snaking her hand around his waist and snuggling in closer. He let her, closing his eyes to take in the scent of her skin one more time. It had been wonderful, having her back, being hers again, even if he knew it couldn’t last.

“Right back.” Rick whispered. He kissed her forehead, feather-light, and slowly untangled their legs. She let him go, sighing and rolling into the warm spot he’d left. No one would be awake in the camp yet, just whoever had taken over Dale’s watch on top of the RV. So as the grey dawn gave way to a gold and green morning Rick threw on Shane’s tee, his jeans and flannel, slipped out of the tent and headed to find a bush to relieve himself. He went out past the lines, just for curtesy’s sake, and found a likely spot.

He was feeling a bit better this morning - the post-coital glow notwithstanding - less shaky and weak than the day before. He’d have to start exercising properly if he could. There’d be plenty to lift and lug and dig and drag at the farm, he was sure, and there was always too much running to be done nowadays. He’d have to get everyone training with knives today, make sure they all had at least one. Two each for the kids. Maybe sticks and pipe-work, too, the crowbar. Anything pointy could save a life if someone knew how to use it. It was too echoey here to have anyone practice shooting. Everything, dead and alive, for miles around would hear shots ringing back and forth across these hills. Maybe once they got to the farm they could set up a shooting range further from the house so the kids could practice.

He was just finishing up his business, smiling as he remembered how Michonne had bitched back before about how much easier men had it without bathrooms, when he heard it.

A crunch, a slither, like a limb being dragged clumsily behind a stumbling body.

Immediately he was on high alert, zipping up his jeans so fast he was lucky he didn’t lose any skin and dropping into a crouch. He drew the knife from his boot and waited, listening. There. He slipped as quietly as he could through the brush, hoping to god no one else had had to take an early morning piss and was about to get themselves eaten.

As he reached a little clump of birch saplings he paused. Whatever it was was just on the other side. He could hear breathing, real live breathing, like an animal. Shit. He didn’t have a weapon to kill anything bigger than a walker with. He should have brought his crowbar. He hated to see the opportunity for fresh meat slip by but he backed away, not willing to risk getting kicked or bitten by some animal.

The whiz of a bolt cut through the air from his right and Rick instinctively dropped to his knee, pivoting to bring his knife back up. The animal, whatever it was, fell heavily to the leaves behind him with a grunt.

“Tha’s my kill!”

The voice came just before the body that pushed through the trees and Rick looked up, his breath stopping in his throat.

“Daryl.” He croaked, his mouth dry. Fuck. It was Daryl. Looking pissed and dirty and younger than Rick would have said was possible. A string of squirrels dangled across his chest and he wore a pair of too-big cargo pants that hung off his narrow hips. His hair stuck up in short, spiky tufts and Rick nearly laughed at the sight of his ears, just sticking out from the sides of his head like that. “Daryl.” He repeated. Rick stood up, his knife flopping uselessly at his side as he took two big steps across the forest floor. Jesus. Daryl.

“Yeah?” the hunter grunted, pulling another bolt from the bridge and casually loading it into his crossbow. “And who the hell are you?”

Rick wasn’t prepared for the stone those words dropped in his belly. Daryl really didn’t remember. He didn’t know Rick. Rick swallowed, his hand raising to cover his gut as the realization sunk in. He reached the other hand out, as if to touch Daryl, draw him in, bump their foreheads together and just breathe.

“I… I’m…” he stuttered. Why? For fuck’s sake, why?

“You a retard or somethin’?” Daryl asked raising his bow just slightly. Rick felt tears sprouting in his eyes and he had no idea why. Well he did, but…

“Damn.” Daryl cursed as he shoved through the birches to reveal the young buck he’d killed. There was an arrow in it’s rump, a long, wide trail of blood all down one leg. Rick guessed that was the dragging step he’d heard. Daryl’s second bolt had taken it through the eye. “Meat’s gonna taste like shit now.” Daryl muttered, scratching at the back of his head. Rick couldn’t stop looking at him. God, had Daryl ever been that young? That brash? The way he talked. Rick had barely heard Daryl’s voice above a whisper in years, not unless it was a shout. And the way he held his shoulders, all tense like he expected the whole world to be aiming a punch. Rick pushed his fingers into his belly as it ached.

“The fuck are you starin’ at?” Daryl snapped and Rick stumbled.

“I-I…” he cleared his throat. “That was a good shot.”

Daryl tsked at him and bent down to pull out his hunting knife. “Get back t’camp, city boy.” He growled and slit the deer’s belly, carefully spilling it’s guts out across the leaves. “‘Fore you puke on my kill.” The pile of steaming innards snapped Rick into action. He tore off his flannel, shoving it under the leaves and pulling the guts onto it. Daryl stared at him and Rick shrugged.

“Can’t keep all this here. It’ll bring walkers. Gotta burry it somewhere far away.” He said, trying to focus on the work rather than the blue eyes he could feel piercing the side of his face. His eyes. The ones Rick knew as well as his own. How much had Daryl said over the years with just a glance? And now there was that horrible distance, the same as Rick had seen in Glenn’s face, but worse. He’d nearly forgotten how angry Daryl had been back at the beginning, how ready he’d been to pick a fight. The trust, the _knowing_ , it was all gone. Rick had to bite back a sad chuckle as Carl’s words from yesterday came back to him. _Hurts to see him like that._ Yeah, no shit.

They worked silently, Rick lifting the shirt-full of offal and carrying it off into the woods until he found a little gorge. He dumped the mess over the edge, looking around to make sure that any walkers that came sniffing would be funnelled away from the camp by the topography. He trudged back, caught off-guard all over again to find Daryl working away skinning the buck. Daryl glanced up, mistrustful but silent as Rick laid his shirt back down. Rick repeated the whole thing again, and then a third time until all the waste organs had been disposed of and he threw the flannel in after them. Daryl would have to take the skin away himself when he was done. Ricks legs were already starting to wobble.

“C’mon.” Daryl sniffed, standing up and swinging the carcass across his broad shoulders. Rick stared a moment, wondering how many times Daryl would have to draw his bow before his shoulders would be like Rick remembered. He moved to take a leg maybe and Daryl skittered back, eyes shooting up to Rick’s with a glare. “I got it.” He hissed and Rick backed away.

God.

They trudged back towards camp, Daryl easily outpacing Rick even with the weight of the buck on his back. By the time they made it into camp almost everyone was up and busy, the campfires smoking and every voice raised louder than it should have been.

“Merle!” Daryl shouted and Rick winced. “Hey, Merle!”

“Daryl!” Carl’s joyful voice was the not-quite-a-shout they’d all learned years ago. He came running from near the RV, Sophia and Duane trailing nervously along behind him. Duane’s eyes were huge as he took in the bleeding deer carcass and Sophia offered Daryl a shy smile. Daryl froze for a split second and Rick saw his knuckles whiten around the deer’s legs.

“Hey, kid.” Daryl grunted as Carl tripped up to him, a wide smile on his little face.

“Looks like your hunt went good!” Carl said, motioning to the string of squirrels. “I heard Carol might be able to make some barbecue sauce with the stuff they got on the run. Do you think that would taste good on squirrel?”

Rick watched the way Daryl’s face softened at Carl’s enthusiasm, just a little. “Yeah.” He husked. “Should be alright.”

“Hey, you found my dad!” Carl grinned and Daryl’s head whipped to Rick. Rick smiled at him and Daryl scowled back, like Rick was somehow mocking him. “Mom’s looking for you.” Carl said as if he didn’t notice the tension between the two men. “She’s pretty worried.”

Rick winced. “Oops.” He said and Carl giggled. “Uh,” Rick turned to Daryl. What the hell was he supposed to say? Nice to meet you? Thanks for bringing us a deer? God, I’ve missed you? He settled for a lame little nod and headed toward the center of camp.

The further he got from Daryl the faster his breath came, like he was running from a damn herd or something. He didn’t know why he was freaking out like this. He’d known, he’d _known_ that Daryl didn’t remember. Merle had told him. Rick had seen it in the whole rest of their family. Hell, he should be happy Daryl didn’t remember all the messed up shit they’d waded through together. If Rick had his way none of his family would go through even a tenth of the horror they’d been put through the first time. So why did he feel like he’d been turned inside out? Like he’d somehow lost something just looking this younger Daryl in the eyes?

“Rick?” Lori’s gasp ripped him out of those thoughts. “Jesus, Rick! What happened?”

Rick followed her shocked stare down to find his t-shirt, hands and arms stained dark with blood. He let out a shaky laugh.

“No, Lori, it’s fine.” He said. “Daryl brought back a deer. I helped him clean it.”

Lori blinked. “Oh.” She sagged, relieved. “Daryl’s back?” Rick’s head shot up, catching the purse of her lips, the disdain in her eyes. He felt his hackles rise as his fists clenched at his sides.

“Rick, what the hell happened to you?” Shane appeared, eyes wide and worried and Rick let his fists loosen.

Lori shot Shane a poisonous look and Shane shrank back from it just slightly.

“Uh, you need a new shirt or…?” Shane asked, ignoring Lori as she tried to bore a hole in his head with her gaze alone. Rick decided this had gone on long enough.

“I need to talk with you.” He said and Lori’s head whipped around. Rick could see the flash of fear in her eyes, the wave of guilt that swept Shane’s face. “Both of you. Come on, I got to clean up.”

Lori swallowed but schooled her face, walking calmly ahead of him towards the path down to the pond. Shane trailed along behind and Rick tried his hardest to collect himself. He could do this. He took deep breaths, worked his hands open and closed and as they reached the shore he stripped down and splashed the chilly water on his arms. When most of the blood had been scrubbed away he used the inside of the ruined shirt to dab his skin dry and threw it aside to dispose of later. He turned back to find Lori perched on a stone and Shane standing as far away across the little beach as he could get. Rick sighed and motioned him closer. Shane stubbornly stood his ground and Rick instead went to sit beside Lori. He took her hand in both of his, running his thumb across her wedding ring.

“I love you, Lori.” He said quietly and she smiled up at him. She was doing that thing where she tried not to blink too much, tried not to show how nervous she really was. “I’m always gonna love you. I’ll protect you and I’ll keep you alive through all this, but I can’t be your husband anymore.”

Lori stopped breathing.

“Rick,” Shane sounded like someone had punched him in the stomach.

“Listen.” Rick insisted. Lori raised a trembling hand to Rick’s face as if to catch him but he leaned away. He squeezed her fingers and tried not to let the tear that fell down her cheek sway him. “I know about you two. I know you’ve been sleeping together for weeks.” The pair of them froze stock still and Rick continued. “I’m not angry.”

“Rick I never, _never_ woulda touched her if I thought you was alive!” Shane insisted, his boots crunching on the gravel as he took a stumbling step back.

“He told me you were dead!” Lori wept. “I swear, he told me you’d died.”

“Lori.” Rick said gently. “I don’t blame you. You were stuck in hell and you were alone. The world is falling apart around you and a friend offered you comfort. I don’t blame you for taking it. Shane.” He turned to look at his best friend, at the guilt that bowed his shoulders. “You saved my life. You saved her life. You saved Carl. You and Lori kept him alive. That’s everything.”

“Rick, please.” Lori sniffed. “It didn’t mean anything.” Shane stiffened but she refused to even look at him.

“Yeah, it did.” Rick told her. “But that’s not why I can’t be yours anymore.”

“Then why?” she demanded. “Why _now?”_

“Because I’m not the same man who took that bullet.” He said. “I can’t explain it, not in any way you’d understand, but I’m not the man you married. I’m never gonna be again. And there’s too much that needs to be done now for me to try and be.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lori snapped, her long fingers pinching tight around his wrist. “I thought you were dead, Rick. Dead! And then you show up again and like a miracle I’ve got my husband back. You can’t leave me now!”

Rick gave her a sad smile. “It was a miracle.” He said. “You don’t even realize how much of one. But that doesn’t change a thing. I’m not your husband anymore.”

“You bastard!” Lori hissed, leaping to her feet. She wrenched her hand away, slapping him hard across the face. Rick just let her, didn’t rub at his stinging cheek as she marched back up the hill in a flood of tears.

“Funny how she’s the one that sleeps with my best friend and I’m the one that gets slapped.” Rick joked lamely. Shane snorted, slowly moving over to sit in the gravel beside Rick. Rick stared out over the water, wondering at how calm he felt about having just ended his twelve-year marriage. Twenty-two-year?

“You ain’t gotta leave her.” Shane said after a while.

Rick smiled. “Yeah, I do.” He said. “It’s got nothin’ to do with you and her. It’s about her and I. We ain’t been right for years. And I… I can’t be the man she needs.”

He looked back out over the water and let that truth settle on his shoulders. He loved her. But now, who he was and who he had to be over the next months and years to keep them all alive… that man would never be Lori’s husband. He couldn’t put her first anymore, not over Morgan or Glenn or Carol or anyone. They were his family and she was just a part of it. And Lori would never get that. He remembered once, a fight they’d had years ago when he’d taken Shane’s side in some stupid discussion against her. She’d told him later when they got home and she wanted him to sleep on the couch that it shouldn’t matter if she was wrong, she was his wife and that meant he needed to back her one hundred percent. Rick could still feel the shock that statement had shoved through him. But he knew, after last time, that the end of the world didn’t change everybody. Some people it just made even more the same. Lori was like that. Even if she lived another decade through this beside him he knew Lori would always need to come first. It was a fundamental part of who she was, and who she expected him to be. Hadn’t that always been their problem? She’d needed to be his one and only priority and he just wasn’t built that way. He wasn’t a white knight, never would be. He was something dirty and vicious and heroism didn’t come into it anymore.

Shane chewed on his lip. “How’d you find out?” he asked, bringing Rick back.

“Carl.” Rick lied. “He said you two haven’t been quite as discreet as you thought.”

Shane cringed. “I… I love her, y’know?” he said finally. Rick looked down at him, quirking an eyebrow. Shane looked back and for once Rick saw nothing but sincerity in his face. The bluster and sarcasm and shit-eating grin were all gone, wiped away by the force of his words. “I always loved her.”

“Always?” Rick repeated, surprised.

Shane nodded. “I remember meetin’ her. We was at that shitty burger stand by the highway after the game against Richmond Hill. You was ridin’ high on the only touchdown you ever scored in your whole damn life. Then in walks this skinny brunette and I thought, well damn!” Shane chuckled. “It was like one a them old cartoons where the little naked baby jams an arrow in some poor sonovabitch’s ass and all’v a sudden he’s got big ol’ hearts for eyes, y’know? An’ I just thought: well that’s it for me. Here’s the girl I’m gonna marry.” He shook his head, ruffling his hand through his too-long hair. “An’ then,” he sighed, “turns out she only had eyes for you.” His smile was a sad little thing and Rick’s heart ached.

“You never told me any of this.” He said softly and Shane scoffed.

“Yeah? What was I supposed ta say? ‘Hey, Rick, ol’ buddy, by the way I’m in love with the girl you’re all gaga over too and if you wouldn’t mind just scootin’ to the side and maybe give your buddy a chance?’” He rolled his eyes.

Rick snickered. “Yeah, maybe that wouldn’t have gone down so well.” he admitted.

“‘Sides, it was pretty clear she didn’t want me. I ain’t gonna force myself on ‘er.” Shane leaned back on his palms, looking up at the clear blue sky. “An’ y’all were happy. Least ya was for a while.”

Rick cringed as he remembered all those times, all the years Shane had sat and listened to Rick tell him about their fights, let Rick lean on him when Lori cut Rick to the bone. “Jesus.” He breathed and Shane laughed.

“Yeah, can’t say it was fun times when y’all was fightin’.” He admitted. “But ya had Carl and…” he trailed off, shrugging. “I figured if I ain’t ever gonna have the woman I love I might as well have a bunch more.”

Rick laughed and Shane waggled his eyebrows at him. “You ever,” Rick cleared his throat, hoping his words didn’t come out accusatory. “You ever been with her? I mean before I got shot?” He wasn’t sure what answer he wanted. To know that Shane had waited for Lori for fourteen years, had put her happiness and Rick’s above his own… No wonder he’d gone insane last time.

“Once.” Shane admitted and Rick felt a distant wave of rage sweep through him. It was old and dull, just an echo of what he’d felt the first time he’d learned Shane was sleeping with his wife. “You two had had a fight.” Shane explained. “Carl was just little. She’d left for her sister’s ta clear her head and you were left with Carl. She came back, hair all did up and nails and all that shit, lookin’ like a million bucks and ready ta make ya grovel. And then you weren’t there.”

Rick frowned, trying to remember.

“Ya’d taken Carl to the zoo, over in Atlanta. Spent the whole day with him there.” Shane told him and Rick nodded, remembering. Carl had been four, just old enough to really question why his momma had gone away. “Ya left her a note I guess and that really pissed her off, like you were expecting her back after she walked out. It was a revenge fuck.” Shane rubbed a hand over his face. “I knew it, knew it weren’t gonna happen again. But I…” he shook his head. “I never shoulda done it. Never even thought about doin’ it again. God, I couldn’t look at ya for a week. But then… all this… I swear to Christ himself I thought you were dead, Rick.”

“I know.” Rick nodded.

“And I’d a’ given everything for you not to be.” Shane pleaded. “I swear I woulda.”

“I know.” Repeated Rick.

“I thought you was dead and then the military swept in and said we all had ta evacuate. So I grabbed up Lori and Carl and we ran like hell. I didn’t, I didn’t want ta leave ya behind. It weren’t like that.” Rick didn’t bother to reassure him, figured Shane just needed to get it all out. “Lori, she was all alone. Scared. Scared like I didn’t think she could get. And she needed me.”

“She did.” Rick told him. “She still does.”

“I love her.” Shane sighed. “Always have. And I never, never would’a said nothin’ about it or done nothin’ about it if you’d been alive. I swear to you.” Shane hung his head and Rick reached out, placing his palm on the back of Shane’s skull. Shane sank further under it, blowing out a breath that shook.

“I get it, Shane.” Rick said. “I’m glad you were there for her.”

Shane snorted, rolling his eyes up to meet Rick’s again. “That you givin’ me your blessing ta keep bangin’ your wife?” he asked. Rick chuckled at Shane’s obvious attempt to goad him and shoved Shane’s head away. It was so Shane; when in doubt, provoke.

“I guess.” Rick shrugged. “Look, you do what you want. I love her and I’m gonna keep her safe. Carl is my son and Lori’s his mother. But beyond that…” he sighed. “Beyond that it’s up to her.”

They sat in a silence that was more comfortable than it probably should have been, considering. But after a while Rick stood, stretching until his back popped. “C’mon.” He grunted, grabbing the ruined tee and gripping Shane’s shoulder. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

As they trudged up the hill towards camp they met Andrea and Amy bringing down the morning’s dishes.

“Morning!” Amy smiled brightly.

Rick nodded at her and ignored the concerned look Andrea threw his way. He supposed he looked strange to them, shirtless and still a bit bloody around the edges. Shane’s tent was on the edge of camp closest to the path and he ducked in, emerging with a fresh shirt that Rick tugged over his head gratefully.

“Well what in the hell is goin’ on?” Merle asked, sauntering over with his obnoxious grin firmly in place. Behind him Carol and the older woman Rick didn’t remember were looking on nervously, folding a basket of laundry between them. “Queen Bee just blew through here madder’n a wet panther.”

Rick shook his head. “None of your business, Merle.” He said.

Merle whistled, eyes going wide. “Oh! So y’all told her you knew about yer boy slippin’ her the ol’ pipe, huh?”

Shane swung out of nowhere but Merle was fast enough to dodge, cackling all the way. Shane reeled back again but then Daryl was there, plowing into Shane low and wrapping his arms around his waist to drag him to the ground. Shane woofed as Daryl’s punch landed. Rick surged forward, grabbing at Daryl’s shoulder only to be knocked back as Daryl’s elbow flashed up. Without thinking, Rick yanked on Daryl’s hair hard, the only way he’d ever learned to stop the man when he was in one of his rare protective rages. Daryl grunted, spinning around to aim a punch at Rick’s gut. Rick kicked him hard in the chest, laying him out flat in the dirt on instinct alone.

Daryl lay gasping like a fish for a moment, glaring at Rick like he was mortally offended.

“Y’alright, Rick?” Morgan asked, jogging over with Duane hot on his heels. Rick nodded, glancing around at the rest of them.

Carol was staring, shocked and afraid as she tried to hide behind her laundry basket and the woman beside her scurried back to her husband. T-Dogg stood up from his post atop the RV, looking like he was trying to decide whether to come down and help or just watch. Merle was laughing his ass off as he dragged Daryl back to his feet. He made a show of dusting the younger Dixon off as Daryl fumed, eyes boring a hole into Rick. Rick stared calmly back, knowing that any level of aggression would only fuel Daryl’s fire.

“What the hell is going on here?” Dale came running, Glenn on his heels as Rick pulled Shane to his feet.

“Jus’ a little dust-up, ol’ man.” Merle chuckled, ruffling Daryl’s hair where it stuck up from Rick’s tug until Daryl swatted him away. “Just keepin’ these lawdogs on their toes.”

“Y’keep yer bastard hands off’a my brother!” Daryl snarled at Shane.

Shane took a half step forward, his face like a thundercloud but Rick blocked his path. “Shane.” He said, low and calm. Shane blinked at him. The rest of the camp was staring at them all, engrossed in the little drama.

“How the hell you know Merle Dixon anyway?” Shane growled but backed off the brothers again.

“Oh me’n Officer Friendly got _real_ well acqainted once or twice.” Merle soughed, shooting a grin at Daryl. “Swear I can still feel them cuffs a’ yers in my nightmares, Rick.” He jiggled his right hand at Rick in a vaguely obscene gesture.

Rick raised his eyebrows as Daryl scoffed, spinning and marching away towards the little hollow where he and Merle had their tent. Rick watched him go with that same ache in his belly.

“Mr. Rick?” Sophia piped up, edging her way around Glenn’s legs.

Rick turned to her, noting the little knife on her belt and shooting Carl and appreciative glance. Carl didn’t acknowledge it, just watched Shane glare at Merle.

“Yeah, Sweet-pea?” Rick asked.

“Carl says we’re going to a farm.” She said and suddenly Shane’s focus shifted.

“Not this again.” He groaned and Rick shot him a look.

“He said I should look at the map and try really hard to remember it, just in case I get lost.” Sophia said and Rick smiled sadly.

“That’s a real good idea. In fact, everyone should look at the map. And if something bad happens and we get separated, we’ll all meet up there, right?”

Shane chewed on his lip but finally he nodded. “Makes sense, I guess.” He agreed. Rick nodded at Carl who raced away towards the cruiser. “But Rick, we got a good thing goin’ here. And who knows? Maybe the army comes through in another few weeks and blows all this shit out. If we move we risk every single person in this camp when it might be we just gotta hang on a little longer.”

Rick shook his head. “It ain’t like that, Shane, you know it ain’t.”

“The hell I do!” Shane threw his hand out at the hills behind them. “We got no idea what’s goin’ on out there. Our best bet is ta stay put until we know somethin’.”

Rick grit his teeth as the rest of them all nodded their heads. He shoved his fingers through his hair. How the hell was he supposed to convince any of them when they didn’t _see?_

“I’m tellin’ you,” he tried, “there’s nothing out there that’s going to save us. The government is gone, the police, the army, all of it! It’s just walkers and survivors now and we gotta make sure we stay alive. It’s up to us.”

Shane shook his head. “I get it, man.” He said and Rick bit back a growl that Shane absolutely did not get it. “All this, it’s scary as hell. And you been out there on your own for a while so I bet it was even worse. But we gotta just stay calm, keep our heads on, and we’ll be alright.”

Rick growled in frustration and Merle shook his head.

“That there’s a pipe dream, lawdog.” He said, drawing a glare from Shane. “But you ain’t gonna get it ’til ya see it, I guess. C’mon, Rick. Show us this farm a’ yers.” He slapped Rick on the shoulder and they headed towards the picnic table where Carl was spreading out the map.

“C’mon, Sophia.” Carl called softly. “I’ll show you how to read a map.” He looked up, making eye-contact with Rick for a split second and his little face was grim. He knew as well as Rick that Merle was right. They wouldn’t get it, not yet, and pushing them would just lead to trouble. They’d have to be patient, train everyone up and try to keep them alive through whatever disaster would inevitably find them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Daryl makes an appearance!


	8. Can't Stay Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m not quite sure how much of a warning I really need to put on a TWD fic for gore and graphic depictions of violence, given what we see on the show. But just in case warning for this chapter: gore, blood, guts. There, you have been warned. Enjoy!

Turns out they didn’t have long to wait.

The morning passed frustratingly slow. Shane left Rick to go check on the others in camp and Rick watched him as he made his rounds. He was reminded of those strange days in Alexandria where he had been playing at being a cop again with Michonne, making sure to be seen by the citizens so they could cling to a bit of normality. But that had been counterproductive. The more people clung to how life had been before the harder it would be for them to accept how it was now.

Carl came to sit beside him at the picnic table, kicking his little legs where they dangled above the ground. Rick had to smile.

“Shut up.” Carl told him and Rick chuckled.

“Make sure you keep Duane and Sophia close.” he murmured. “Something’s gonna happen, soon.”

“It always does.” Carl agreed. He looked over towards the tent where Lori had retreated after the conversation on the beach. “Mom was crying.” He observed.

Rick winced. He should have warned Carl about his plan to let Lori go. Even after all Carl had been through Lori and Rick were still his parents and if they were splitting up he had no idea how Carl would take it. “Uh, yeah.” He said stupidly and Carl sighed.

“You two wouldn’t work now.” He said and Rick looked down to see the man he’d raised looking out from his son’s little face. “I missed her so much.” Carl sighed. “But she’s different than I remember. She’s selfish and petty. She plays mind games with pretty much everyone in camp, even Merle.”

Rick frowned. “She’s still your mother.” He warned, getting a smile from his son.

“I know, Dad.” Carl shook his head. “I still love her. I’m still glad we have her back. But you and her don’t belong together anymore.”

Rick swallowed past the rock in his throat. “Nah.” He agreed. “We don’t.”

“And Shane?” Carl asked.

Rick snorted. “Turns out he’s been carrying a torch for her since we were seventeen.” He said, not really seeing the point in hiding it from his son. His family had lived in each others’ pockets for years and Carl had grown up knowing way too much about Maggie and Glenn, Abraham and Rosita. “I gave him my blessing, I guess.”

“Huh.” Carl turned a suspicious eye on Shane. “And Judith?” he asked. Rick glanced at him, confused. Carl rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Dad.” He said, like he was speaking to a particularly slow toddler. “When a daddy and a mommy hug in a very special way…” he raised his eyebrows and Rick felt his face flame. He shoved at Carl’s shoulder.

“We… uh…” he stumbled.

“I know she’s probably already pregnant.” Carl told him, flat out. “But if you don’t stay with mom at all after getting back to us you aren’t going to get the chance to claim Judy as ours. We can’t lose her.”

Rick tried to push away the ridiculous wave of embarrassment that flooded up his chest as his son basically asked Rick if he’d slept with Lori the night before. “Uh,” Rick cleared his throat, ignoring the amused tilt of Carl’s head. “It’s taken care of.” He gruffed. He hadn’t really planned it out, had been thinking of anything but his daughter last night when he followed Lori to her tent, but Carl had a point.

The boy nodded. “Good.” He said.

“Officer Grimes?” Rick turned to find Carol standing a few yards away, her arms clasped around her middle and her body half-turned away. Rick tried to clamp down on the anger that swelled through him to see her like that.

“Good morning, Mrs. Peletier.” He said as calmly as he could.

She gave him a timid smile. “Sophia told me you have a map for me to look at?” she said and Rick nodded. He unfolded the map again across the table and pointed out where they were in relation to the farm.

“This is where we go if we get separated. There’s a family there, good people. They’ll help us.”

Carol looked at the map like it was a foreign language and Rick’s heart ached.

“This is the highway.” Carl told her, snaking his little finger down the yellow line. “But that’s where all the walkers from Atlanta will be coming from so you don’t want to go there. Instead you find one of these roads and then head southeast.” Rick smiled as Carl gently guided Carol through the steps she would need to get to the farm. “And if you get caught by walkers you don’t try to fight. You hide. Climb a tree, find a rock you can crawl under and stay quiet. They’ll pass you by if you don’t do anything to draw their attention.”

Carol smiled at him and touched his hair gently. “You’re a very brave boy.” She told him and Carl smiled.

“Sophia’s brave, too. She’s going to be okay.” He said confidently. Tears sprouted in Carol’s eyes and she excused herself, scurrying back to her tent where Ed had yet to make an appearance that morning. Rick could hear him snoring even from out here and scowled.

“Useless bastard.” Carl muttered, echoing Rick’s thoughts exactly.

“Mornin’ Rick.” Morgan appeared with Merle at his side, Duane and Sophia tagging along behind.

“Mornin’.” Rick nodded. Morgan had his bat in hand and Rick nearly smiled. Even now Morgan gravitated towards a weapon close to his staff. He wondered if maybe Morgan did remember on some level, somewhere so deep in his bones that his hands didn’t feel right without it. Probably not. Hershel could maybe help make a staff for him once they reached the farm. Maybe that would jog his memory.

“Figured now is as good a time as any for you to start teachin’ me an’ Duane how to protect ourselves.” Morgan said and Rick stood, stretching. His shoulder ached but nothing too bad, and he needed to keep loosening up all his weak joints. A little exercise would be welcomed.

“Sure.” He said. He needed to get out of camp anyway, check the lines and clear out any walkers wandering in the area before they could group up. The camp had been making enough noise that morning that he was sure there would be at least one or two wandering close by. That would be good enough practice for them all. “Carl, go see if Glenn, Andrea and Amy will to join. Dale’s back on watch with T-Dog so we’ll get with them this afternoon.”

“Right.” Carl scurried away, catching Merle’s eye as he passed.

“What’s the plan, Friendly?” the big man asked, trotting over to smile at the kids.

“Training.” Rick told him as he headed for the cruiser and Merle nodded. They followed along behind and Rick popped the drunk, pulling out the stuff he’d looted back in King County.

“Good idea. These folks are all soft as marshmallows but they’ll pick up on stuff quick, the ankle-biters especially.” Merle waggled his eyebrows at the kids and Duane shot back a tentative smile.

Carl returned, Andrea and Glenn with him and looking curious. Rick ducked into the pack of military weapons he’d collected and handed all the adults a utility knife. The kids all got the smaller knives and Rick gave Carl the steel letter opener he’d pulled off the Sherriff’s desk, too. Carl knew well enough how to use even a blunt blade when he needed. Carl grinned and twirled it in his fingers in an all-too-practiced motion.

“Not bad, Friendly.” Merle mused, running his thumb across the serrated back of a utility blade. “Had me one of these in the sand trap. Real good for gettin’ through skulls.”

Rick nodded. “Always go for the head.” He told Andrea and Glenn. “A scratch won’t kill you but a bite will. Stay calm and aim for the eyes, the back of the skull where it meets the neck, behind the ears and pointing up. Never use a bullet when a knife will do.”

“Oh yeah.” Glenn huffed, holding the knife awkwardly. “I’ll be sure to remember that when one of them’s trying to gnaw my face off.”

“You have to.” Rick told him sternly. “If you panic you die.”

“‘Cause that’s helping.” Glenn rolled his eyes.

“C’mon.” Rick said, standing and strapping his knives on. His gun belt was still in Lori’s tent so he slung one of the shoulder-holsters from his bag on and strapped in a pistol, just in case. Rick sent Merle, Glenn and Andrea to start on the other end of the perimeter, leaving him with the kids and Morgan. They made their way along the noise-lines, passing the place where Rick and Daryl had worked on the deer that morning. He noted the skin was gone. Daryl must have come back and cleaned it up and Rick smiled at his thoroughness.

“Ain’t you afraid of ‘em?” Rick heard Duane whisper.

“One or two of them?” Carl murmured back. “Not really. Not anymore. Not til they get right up close and I can’t get to a weapon. A whole herd is pretty damn scary, but you gotta learn not to focus on the fear.”

“How do you do that?” Duane asked and Rick winced at the pleading tone. Rick remembered Duane muffling his tears into a pillow that first night, way back, the fear overwhelming him as his mother’s body stalked around outside. A way around the fear was exactly what he needed.

“You’ll learn.” Carl assured him. God, Rick hoped Duane learned. “You know what fear is for?”

Out of the corner of his eye Rick saw Duane shake his head.

“It’s to keep you alive.” Carl said. “You get afraid, it’s human nature to look for a way out. Hell, every animal on earth gets afraid. It’s how they know when to run away.”

“Fight or flight.” Sophia murmured and Duane nodded.

“They taught us about that in school.” The taller boy said.

“But there’s a third option.” Carl told him, crawling over a fallen tree. He reached back to help Sophia balance as she clambered up, then jumped off the other side into the leaves. “There’s always a third option. Fight, flight, think. The fear is there to help, makes you think faster if you can focus. But it can flood your brain if you let it, make you stupid. When you get scared you gotta learn to say ‘okay, this is bad, but I can think my way out of this’. Walkers are mindless eating machines. They can’t think. You can. That’s how you survive.”

Duane stared at him for a moment before he climbed over the log, too. “Ok. I’ll try that.”

“Good.” Carl nodded.

Morgan shot Rick a look, half heartbroken and half grateful.

“Your boy.” He murmured. “He really does remember, huh?”

“Yeah.” Rick nodded. “And he’s gonna make sure the other kids stay alive this time.”

“I sure hope so.” Morgan sighed.

A gunshot rang out behind them and Rick whipped around. Screams, shouting, another shot. The camp.

“Go!” Carl hissed and turned to Sophia. “Up the trees, like we practiced.” He whispered and She immediately turned to start scrambling up the nearest trunk. Duane crowded after her, eyes wide, but didn’t make a sound. Carl gave her a boost and shot Rick a look. “Go!” he repeated. “I’ve got them.”

Rick nodded and sprinted through the brush, Morgan hot on his heels. He could hear Shane yelling, voices screaming. Why the hell had he left them unprotected?

As they broke the tree line he saw them, walkers. Where the hell had they come from? There were a dozen or so already in the camp. T-Dog was standing atop the RV, his gun shaking in his hand as he tried to decide where to aim without hitting anyone living.

The old woman Rick didn’t know went running for the path to the pond, but in her panic she tripped and two walkers immediately fell on her. Rick cursed and leapt over the fire pit to stab one and kick the other off her. He was weaker than he remembered and the walkers were still fresh and strong, but as it rolled back towards him with reaching fingers Morgan’s bat took it in the face. Rick shot him a grateful glance and Morgan hit the thing again, cracking its skull. Rick looked down but the woman was already dead, her throat ripped out and blood spilling across the dirt. He cursed and brained her quick.

“Lori!” Rick heard Shane roaring and sat up, looking around. Lori sprinted up the hill from her tent, a pair of walkers shambling after her with mouths gaping wide. Shane reached her, pulled her past him and blasted the walkers with his shotgun. One of them went down, half-shredded by the blast, but the other just ignored the body shot and kept coming. Rick ripped the pistol from his shoulder and tried to aim but the angle was all wrong for a shot, he’d hit Shane or Lori where she was running between them.

“Shit.” He hissed as he realized there was no way he’d get there in time. He shot the two walkers coming up on Morgan but he couldn’t do anything to help Shane.

An arrow whizzed past Shane’s shoulder and took the walker in the face, dropping it to the dirt.

“Y’got to get the brain, asshole!” Daryl told him as he loaded another bolt and went running towards the RV. Shane grabbed up Lori and followed, blowing the head off another that tried to chase them.

“Rick!” Morgan pointed. Amy was standing on the picnic table, desperately swinging a branch to fend off a group of walkers that clawed at her legs. Rick leapt forward, slicing one’s head halfway off and dragging another to the ground. He could hear Morgan’s bat connect with the third as he stabbed the one under him. The one he’d half-decapitated was flopping around, reaching and biting at nothing. Rick stomped its skull sending rotted brains everywhere.

Amy was crying and Daryl snatched her arm, dragging her to the RV.

Merle and Glenn appeared from the other edge of camp, trailing another half-dozen walkers as they shambled/ran towards the noise of the fight. Merle took out three at a time, slashing expertly with his knife while Glenn fumbled with another.

“The brain, kid, the brain!” Merle told him. Glenn managed to stab up through the Walker’s neck into its skull and it collapsed heavily to the ground. “That’s it!” Merle encouraged, hamstringing the other two neatly and leaving them floundering in the dirt. A pair of Daryl’s bolts caught them each in the head and they went still.

Rick reached the RV and shoved Amy inside, Lori already crouched in the dark interior. Daryl slammed the door on them and nodded at Rick, quick eyes darting around at the carnage. Shane looked up, wild-eyed, raising his shotgun again as the last few walkers stumbled towards them. Rick waved a hand to stop Shane firing and slipped out, neatly dispatching the last few walkers. Shane stared at him as Daryl shot down the last straggler.

Then it was over and all Rick could hear was the quiet sobbing of the women in the RV, Andrea’s shout as she raced for her sister, and Daryl breathing hard at his back.

“Carol!” he hissed, sprinting for the tent she and Ed had been in before it all started. No one followed, maybe too stunned to realize she was missing and he came to a stop when he saw the long, jagged rip in the side of the tent. “Fuck.” He slipped the tattered material aside and his breath caught in his throat.

A walker lay crumpled in the corner of the tent, lifeless rotted eyes staring at the other two figures. Carol knelt over Ed’s body, her teeth ripping into the meat of his shoulder with brutal force. Bile rose in the back of Rick’s throat as his stomach dropped to his boots. God, no. Not Carol.

His sob snapped her head up. She turned to face him, her chin streaked with Ed’s blood but her eyes clear and focused. She wasn’t dead, wasn’t turned. Jesus. Rick nearly fainted with relief as she stood, wiping the back of her arm across her mouth and pulling a knife he hadn’t seen from the back of Ed’s neck.

“Rick?” She asked, spitting blood onto the bedding.

Rick blinked at her, taking in the way she stood, the hawk-sharp glitter of her eyes. “Carol?” he asked, barely daring to hope. She nodded, tears sprouting as she threw herself into his arms. He hugged her, fierce and tight as he realized she was herself again, she remembered!

“I just,” she shuddered in his arms. “I was there and then I was here.” She said, fingers gripping into his curls too tight. “Was it-“

“It was real.” Rick told her, kissing her temple. “It was real.”

“We died.” She whispered. “We all died.”

“Yeah.” Rick rocked her back and forth. They stood, just breathing for a moment before Carol slipped away. She looked down at the lump of flesh that had been her husband and blank hatred swept her face.

“He was twisting my wrist.” She said, rubbing at a darkening bruise around her forearm with one hand. “He wanted Sophia back here and then the walker ripped through the tent and I… suddenly I just…” she looked at him. “How did we get back here?”

Rick laughed weakly. “Hell if I know!” He said. “Most of the others don’t remember.”

Carol shook her head. “I… it’s like I can remember both. This morning and that day…”

“You okay?” Rick demanded, Merle’s warning crowding up in his mind. Jim. Jacqui. Carol couldn’t do something like that. He wanted to snatch the knife away from her, pin her down until he was sure she wasn’t going to do anything to herself.

“Fine.” She said. “I’m fine.” She kicked Ed’s body with her boot. “He was going to break my arm.” She hissed. “And suddenly I could feel them all on me, the walkers, ripping me apart. But I wasn’t there, I was here. With him. Then the screaming started and that one came through the tent and I thought, to hell with this.”

Rick looked down at the very clear teeth marks piercing Ed’s shoulder.

“I put him out of his misery.” Carol told him, motioning to the marks. “No one will question it.”

Rick nodded as he realized what she’d done. The walker in the corner, the knife in Ed’s brain. “Better wash the blood out of your teeth, though.” He said, snatching a half-empty beer can from the corner by Ed’s head. Carol took a swig, swishing the stale beer around in her mouth with a grimace before spitting it all over Ed’s shirt.

“How long have you remembered?” she asked, straightening her clothes and wiping the blood off her arm onto the sleeping bag where Ed lay.

“Since the hospital.” He told her. “The beginning. I brought Morgan here.”

“Jesus, Morgan!” Carol’s eyes went wide. Then her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped. “Sophia!”

She was up and pushing past Rick so fast he nearly ended up on his ass. They burst from the tent and Rick grabbed her shoulder, steering her towards the woods where he’d left Carl and the other kids. Morgan joined them, his face grim as he locked eyes with Rick. They only had to go a few dozen yards before Rick heard a familiar whistle. He stopped and whistled back the all clear and after a moment he heard the leaves crunch as three small sets of feet hit the forest floor.

“Momma!” Sophia’ s cry nearly brought Carol to her knees as the little girl pelted through the brush towards her. Duane ran to Morgan’s side and Morgan hugged him, rubbing his skinny shoulders and making hushing sounds as Duane tried not to cry. Carl followed, watching Carol and her daughter with sad eyes.

“Sophia, baby.” Carol cooed, stroking her daughter’s hair and rocking her back and forth. “It’s okay now, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Rick ran his hand over Carl’s hair, shaken despite himself and Carl glanced up at him.

“It’s our Carol.” Rick whipsered, motioning to her where she held Sophia tight, kissing her again and again. “She’s back.” Carl’s eyes widened.

“Rick!” Shane’s shout came through the trees and Rick heard footsteps tramping towards them.

“Over here.” He called lowly. Daryl and Shane appeared and Carol stood, lifting Sophia onto her hip as the girl wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck.

“The kids okay?” Daryl growled, checking each of them with a quick glance.

“Daryl!” Carol said immediately, stepping forward as if to hug him. Daryl flinched back and Carol froze, shooting Rick a look. He shook his head minutely and pain flashed across her face. “Shane.” She said, covering her slip. “Is everyone okay?” Rick marvelled at the effortless way she slid back into character, the timid housewife all over again.

“The Glovers are dead.” Shane told her and Rick suddenly remembered the old couple’s names. “And your… umm.” Shane glanced at Sophia uncomfortably.

“Ed got bit.” Carol told him, cradling Sophia’s head as she hiccuped. “He killed the walker before it could get to me but…” she shook her head. “He asked me not to let him turn. So I…” she was nearly as good a fake cryer as Carl, Rick noted as fat tears tracked down her cheeks. That or she was just that overwhelmed to have her daughter back after ten years.

“Anyone else?” Rick asked.

“Dale.” Daryl said and Carol flashed Rick a startled glance.

“Bit?” Rick asked and Daryl nodded. Shit. Rick led the way back to camp, cursing himself for leaving the first time. He prayed the bite was in a limb, a foot, a hand, something they could remove and give Dale at least a chance to fight through the fever. But as they came up to the RV and found the old man leaning up against the tire Rick’s lips tightened. Dale’s whole right cheek was ripped open, blood and flesh dripping down onto the collar of his hideous Hawaiian shirt. He was panting, grasping at another bleeding wound in his belly. Glenn was holding his shoulder to keep him from keeling over into the dirt, weeping openly as his friend looked up at him, terrified.

“Shit.” Rick hissed. Dale wasn’t supposed to go now. He had weeks, months before the walkers got him. Damnit if Rick had just gotten them to _move_!

“It’s gonna be okay.” Glenn murmured. “Dale, you’re gonna be fine.”

Dale tried to say something but the ragged flesh of his ruined face flapped uselessly, obscuring his words.

“Jesus Christ.” Shane hissed.

Rick turned to see Lori and Amy peeking out the door of the RV, pale and tear-stained and horrified as they looked at Dale’s wounds. T-Dog jumped down off the back of the RV and dropped to his knees, staring.

“He just went to the bathroom.” He muttered numbly. “He just left to take a leak.”

Rick looked at them all, at the shock and devastation that had turned the camp upside down. He shook his head and dropped to his haunches beside the struggling man.

“Dale.” He said, pity in his voice for the man he had said goodbye to so many years ago. This time he wouldn’t hesitate. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

Dale looked to him, his eyes already glazing over with fever. Rick put a hand on his forehead, pushing it back against the RV. He glanced at Glenn and gave his head a shake, telling him with his eyes to look away.

“Rick!” Glenn’s voice rang out as Rick whipped his knife up, taking Dale cleanly through the temple. Rick watched as the last of his life drained from his eyes, offering a sad, soft smile in parting. Dale slumped, dead, and there was a moment of stunned silence.

“What the _fuck?!”_ Glenn breathed spinning away and shoving his hands into his hair. Lori’s eyes were huge and Andrea looked like she might be sick but Merle stood grim behind her and Amy. “Rick, what the _fuck?_ ”

Rick let Glenn rage, slowly cleaning his knife in the sand by the RV’s wheel. He caught Daryl’s narrow-eyed gaze and Shane’s stunned gape. Carol’s stoic face as she held Sophia to her. Carl slipped between the legs of the adults, coming to wrap his arms around Glenn’s neck where he knelt in the dirt.

“He won’t be afraid, now.” Carl said, squeezing Glenn tight. Glenn’s eyes were wild but his arms came up reflexively to hug the child back. “And he won’t be one of them.” Carl told him. Rick watched Glenn’s face as that sunk in, watched him work through it in his head. He stared at Dale for a moment, then his eyes slid to Rick. Rick stared back and after a moment Glenn nodded. Rick nodded too and sheathed his knife, standing up.

“We can’t stay here.” He said, looking around. “We’ll bury our dead, gather our things, and get somewhere safer.” He turned to look at Shane, his eyes hard. Shane looked away, out at the bodies and blood that littered the camp.

“Fine.” He said. “We’ll go to this farm of yours.” Rick tried not to worry about the way Shane’s shoulders bunched, the fresh wave of guilt he could see running up on his friend. He didn’t have time for that. He needed to get them up and moving. Carol caught his eye as she rocked Sophia slowly back and forth and he saw all his thoughts reflected in her face.

“Glenn, Merle, Daryl, T-Dogg.” Rick snapped. “Get digging over there.” He pointed to the loosest earth near the path at the base of the little peak that overlooked camp. “Not too deep, we’ll pile rocks on top. The rest of you, get packing. Be ready to leave in an hour.”


	9. Hope and Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a character in this chapter who may not fully resemble their counterparts from the show, but I figured a bit of artistic license was admissible. Thank you so much to everyone leaving kudos and comments, it really means a lot. Hope everyone is staying safe, staying sane, and staying home whenever possible. Enjoy!

It was just before noon when they left the quarry behind.

They marked Dale’s grave with a bit of wood from the picnic table and what little Andrea and Amy knew about him written in sharpie. _Dale Horvath. Writer, poet, scholar. Beloved husband, brother, and friend_. The Glovers no one had known well enough to write anything about but Sophia placed a few pretty leaves and pinecones on the stones that covered their heads. Funnily enough no one felt much like dragging Ed out of his tent to bury him. Instead they piled the rest of the walkers in it with him and set the whole thing on fire. Rick watched the smoke curl up into the bright morning sky and hoped it would draw any other walkers in the area up here and away from the roads.

That done, they divided up the supplies from the van and RV into the three smaller cars, T-Dog’s SUV, Shane’s jeep, and Rick’s cruiser, and piled in. Lori wanted Carl with her and since she was still pissed at Rick he relented, knowing how shaken she was after the events of the morning. As the pair of them went to climb in the back of the jeep where Glenn and Shane were already waiting Rick thought of something.

“Carl.” he called softly and his son came trotting back. He looked up at Rick, curious, and Rick couldn’t resist touching his hair. God, he was so young. But where Carl at age twelve would have ducked out from under Rick’s hand, annoyed at being treated like a little kid, the Carl that remembered leaned into his palm. Rick smiled. “In my pack, in the trunk.” He said, nodding towards the cruiser. “There’s a plastic bag with some pudding cups. Should be enough for you, Duane and Sophia to each have one.” He said and Carl’s grin was like the sun rising.

“No fucking way!” he breathed and Rick chuckled.

“Go on, go get them. Before Merle finds them.”

“I’d shoot him.” Carl threatened and raced for the cruiser.

As Glenn and T-Dog finished clearing out the RV Shane came to lean beside Rick on the hood.

“You okay?” he asked and Rick tilted his head at him.

“Yeah, why?”

Shane cast him a funny look. “You killed a man, Rick.” He said and Rick felt a distant sort of punch in his gut. How long had it been since ending a life had been enough to stop him in his tracks? Too long to go back, anyway.

Rick shook his head. “He’d ‘a died.” He told Shane. “He’d ‘a died slow and painful. And then he’d ‘a turned. That’s how it goes.”

Shane stared at him and Rick just let him. “The fuck happened to you before you got here?” Shane asked finally and Rick let out a sad little chuckle.

“A hell of a lot.” He admitted. “And most of it pretty fucking terrible. You wouldn’t even believe.” He looked at his friend, here and whole and sane enough to be calling Rick a madman. He reached up to palm the back of Shane’s head, giving his friend a little shake. It was a gesture from too many football practices, nights in a bar, hard days on the job and asking Shane to be his best man. It was familiar as breathing and something he’d never thought he’d do again.“I’m gonna keep you alive.” He promised. “You and Lori and Carl and everyone else. But that?” he gestured to the black patch where Dale’s blood had soaked into the dirt beside the RV’s wheel. “That ain’t no way to die.”

He knew. He’d done it.

Shane’s lashes flicked over his eyes as he looked at the bloodstain. With a nod he said, “A’right.” Rick gave his shoulder a squeeze before he let go. “C’mon. Let’s find this farm of yours.”

Amy and Andrea rode with T-Dog, both red-eyed and quiet after losing Dale. Amy was alive, though, Rick reminded himself. They’d lost Dale but they’d saved Amy. It felt like some twisted game, a balancing act the universe was forcing on them, but he didn’t know if that was all in his head. Wasn’t it all just random chance, now? One wrong move, one stupid mistake, and it could all still end in an instant.

“Nah, little brother.” Merle’s gruff voice cut into Rick’s thoughts. “I ain’t gonna squish myself in there like some damn sardine. I’ll ride with Officer Friendly. You g’on.” He motioned to the open seat in the back of T-Dog’s car. Daryl’s eyes narrowed at Rick, like he thought he was going to do something to Merle the minute the older Dixon was in his car but Merle chuckled. “‘Sides,” he said, tapping the tail-light of the cruiser fondly, “been a long time since I go to stretch out in a cushy seat curtesy of the law, ain’t it?”

Rick snorted and Daryl scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fine.” He muttered. Rick watched him as he climbed in the back of T-Dog’s car and realized how wrong it looked. He didn’t know when but shotgun had become Daryl’s rightful place. It was probably sometime at the prison, Rick decided, when Daryl and Rick started going on runs without backup. Rick had always driven, it wasn’t even a question. He’d slid behind the wheel like that’s where he belonged every time. But even when Michonne or Glenn tagged along it was always Daryl to Rick’s right, like it was the only place that made sense. Rick shook his head as the car door slammed.

Carol was watching Merle over the roof of the cruiser and after a moment she smiled. “Late bloomer, after all.” She said and he froze. He blinked at her and his wide, toothy grin spread over his face.

“Yes, Ma’am.” was all he said.

Morgan and Duane climbed into the back, Carol refusing to let Sophia sit anywhere but in her lap. Merle slid in last of all. He sighed as he leaned back in the seat, rubbing at his forearms to soothe their aching. Rick could sympathize. He had forgotten how difficult digging graves had been at the start, before his body was disturbingly used to it. As he slid behind the wheel his back and shoulders ached like fire and his legs felt a little too much like jell-o.

Pulling the cruiser around and giving his lights a quick flash, Rick took the lead down the winding gravel road. Duane and Sophia managed to konk out before they even hit pavement, exhausted by the adrenaline crash and Rick envied them just a little.

“Who else?” Carol asked eventually, glancing at Morgan in the rearview.

“You, Me, Merle, and Carl. That’s all I know so far.” Rick told her. He gave her a quick rundown of everything that had happened since the hospital, everything that had changed.

“So why hasn’t Morgan reacted like that?” she asked when he told her about Jim and Jacqui.

“No idea.” Rick shrugged. “Merle said their reactions were pretty immediate, the same night he told them.”

“’Sright.” Merle nodded. “Jim went apeshit. Just,” he mimed shooting himself in the head and Morgan grimaced. “Jacqui looked like she was gonna be ok but that went to shit.”

“But Morgan’s known for days and he seems fine.” Rick told her.

“Not about to blow my head off.” Morgan confirmed with a tight smile.

“But you still don’t remember?” Carol asked and Morgan shook his head. “And you three, you and Merle and Carl, woke up one day, totally aware of what had happened?” Carol pressed. “But I…” she gestured back down the road toward the quarry and Rick nodded.

“I’ve got no idea why.” He repeated. “Or even how.”

“We’ve got to tell them.” Carol hitched her thumb back at the jeep Shane drove behind them and T-Dog’s car trailing along. “Rick, they’ve got to know! Otherwise they’ll fight you every step of the way.”

“Woah, there, Church-mouse!” Merle warned, leaning forward to grip the back of Carol’s seat. “Ain’t you heard us? Tellin’ ‘em’d just get ‘em killed anyway!”

“You don’t know that.” Carol argued.

Rick shook his head. “We can’t risk it.”

“We have to.” Carol insisted. “Rick, don’t you remember the night after you killed Shane?” Morgan jumped and Rick nodded grimly.

“I remember.” He said. He would never forget.

 _I killed my best friend for you people_.

“We nearly left.” Carol reminded him. “Maggie, Beth and Glenn, Daryl and me. I told Daryl we needed to get away from you, that you were too dangerous. And that was when Shane had tried to kill you. That’s how stupid we were back then. These people won’t understand, not how they are now, what you do, what we have to do.”

“I know.” Rick told her.

“We have to make them remember!” Carol pushed but Rick tapped his thumbs on the wheel, frustrated.

“How can we chance it?” he asked and Carol frowned. “What if we tell them and Shane goes off the deep end? Glenn? Lori or Andrea? What if they do something before we can stop them? I can’t put them in danger like that.”

“You’re putting them in danger keeping them in the dark!” Carol snapped and Merle scoffed.

“They’re in danger jus’ breathin’ right now, in case y’didn’t notice!” he said. “Safest bet is t’train ‘em up and see if they remember on their own.”

Carol shook her head. “Who says they will?”

“You did.” Merle shot.

“Not until I almost got eaten by a random walker!” Carol shot back. “And it was _close_. If they don’t remember, or remember too late, we’re going to lose people.”

Rick sighed. “I don’t know what’s right.” he admitted. “But I know we can’t lose them, not this time around. You know we can’t.” He glanced at Sophia’s peaceful face.

Carol looked down at her daughter and settled back in the seat, her expression pensive. For a few miles she said nothing, just watched the Georgia woods sliding by. “How are we going to find the others?” she asked at last. Rick blew out a relieved breath. He knew Carol well enough to know that the subject was not closed, but she was at least giving it time.

“Abraham’s people won’t be coming west for at least a year, unless someone remembers.” He said.

“Abraham? You got a Jew in your group now?” Merle asked and Rick didn’t know if he objected to the idea or was just bored and being an asshole but either way he didn’t bother to respond.

“The rest will all find their way to the prison eventually.” He told Carol instead. “And if not once we have it we can send out searches. But we’ve got to get everyone ready to take the prison early enough that Lori can have Judith safely.”

“Oh god, Judith!” Carol breathed.

“She’s got to be priority number one for now.” Rick said.

“Who’s Judith?” Morgan asked.

“Rick’s daughter.” Carol told him. “She was born at the prison, the day Lori died.” Morgan went still, staring at Rick in the rearview. Rick set his jaw and took the next turn a little too quick.

“If we can get into the prison early enough, go on some runs before the nearest places are all cleared out, we can set ourselves up for the winter and Lori will be in much better shape than last time to deliver a baby. She won’t be half-starved and alone. Hershel won’t leave her side, you and Maggie. It doesn’t have to go like that. Not this time.”

“Gotta take care of the Governor before we decide on what color to paint the nursery, Friendly.” Merle reminded him. “Otherwise don’t matter how early we get there.”

Rick nodded, acknowledging the point.

“The Governor?” Morgan asked and Merle spent a few dozen miles telling him about Woodbury and everything that had happened there. Carol chipped in details here and there and Rick tried to concentrate on anything but the rage that boiled up in his gut as he remembered the man that had sewn chaos and death in his family.

“Might be we can get in there early, me ’n Daryl, and kill him ‘fore he even gets started.” Merle suggested as he finished his story. “Slip in, slip out, real quick.”

Rick chewed on his lip. “What about his daughter?”

“What about ‘er?” Merle shrugged.

“If she’s still alive we make her an orphan.”

Merle rolled his eyes. “Thought you’d grown a pair ‘a balls since I died.” He scoffed.

“The girl never did anything wrong.” Carol interjected. Merle threw her a filthy look which she ignored. “And besides,” she said, gathering Sophia just a little tighter in her arms, “killing a little girl’s father leaves a very angry little girl. That sort of thing breeds trouble later.”

“Jesus Christ!” Morgan gasped, staring at the back of Carol’s head like she was a live viper.

“We’re getting too far ahead of ourselves.” Rick told them. “Step one is to get to the farm and get everyone ready.” Carol nodded and Merle scowled but said nothing.

They rode a while in silence, passing the occasional abandoned car or group of walkers but nothing big enough to make them stop. Even taking the back roads it was only a few hours to the farm and just as the Georgia sun was sending the worst of the heat rays off the asphalt they came to the dirt road that led to the Greene farm. Rick felt the same strange frantic pull he’d had as he neared the quarry as he saw the familiar fields.

They came up over a little hill and Rick stomped on the brakes so hard Shane almost slammed into the back of the cruiser.

“Holy shit.” Rick breathed and Carol reached across to grab his wrist on the wheel.

A fence.

There was a fence.

It wasn’t the pine post and barbed wire maze that had closed off the Greenes’ fields the first time, but a seven-foot tall cedar board construction ringing the house, barn and kitchen gardens and topped with razor wire. But the fence barely registered because standing in the middle of the road, one hand holding a string of dead swamp rabbits was a familiar face.

Blond hair shining in the sun Beth stood, a slow smile spreading as she took in the line of cars. Rick leapt from the cruiser and as his boots hit dirt Beth dropped her rabbits and lunged for him.

“Beth!” he whispered, gathering her up in his arms. She squeezed him tight and giggled as tears splashed onto his shoulder.

“Hey, Rick.” She murmured. He heard footsteps behind him and Beth backed up just enough to look over his shoulder.

“Carol!” she said as the woman reached out to cradle her face.

“Beth. Beth!” The two women hugged and Rick stumbled back a step, shaking like a leaf. Beth was here, she remembered. God, Beth. Then a car door slammed and Carl was pelting past him, throwing himself at Beth and clinging to her waist as he sobbed like the child he was now. Beth kissed the top of his head, knelt in the dirt to whisper to him. He held her hands as she kissed his cheeks, her smile soft and bright as it had been so many nights in the light of a campfire.

Lori trotted up, taking Rick’s elbow and staring at their son with concern in her eyes. “Rick?” she asked, uncertain, and Rick found he had no way to explain. So he just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and watched Carl and Beth.

When Carl had finally calmed down enough to let go Beth stood and dusted off the knees of her jeans. She looked around at them all as they crowded around her and Rick could see the exact moment she realized that not all of them remembered. It was Daryl. The hunter hung back, holding his crossbow low and uncertain and staring at Beth like he wasn’t sure what to make of her. Rick saw the flash of hurt that crossed her face and remembered Daryl weeping as he carried her limp body out of Grady.

“Well, Rick.” She said, schooling her features. “Why don’t y’all introduce me to everybody?”

Rick started with Lori. “Lori, this here’s Hershel’s daughter. Beth. Haven’t seen her in… too long.” Rick choked.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Beth smiled. If her eyes flicked to Lori’s stomach for a moment only Rick and Carol noticed.

“You, too.” Lori smiled but Rick could see the edge to it. “How is it you know Rick?” Rick had known the story wouldn’t stand up long. He and Lori had been together too long for her not to know all his closest friends and family. And he and Shane had practically grown up in the same house.

“Oh, I met him a long time ago. I was just a kid.” Beth said in her dreamy, disarming way. “He helped my Daddy with an infestation problem in our barn.” Rick nearly laughed at the description, would have if Carol’s expression hadn’t gone grim. “Ain’t got none of that now. I still check the barn every day to be sure.” Beth said, looking Carol in the face. Carol took a deep breath and closed her eyes and Rick could feel her relief. That barn would always be the place where her little girl died, even if Sophia had been dead long before she set foot in there. But Beth was making sure the mistakes of the past didn’t get repeated, and Sophia would not end up in that barn again.

“You moonlighted as an exterminator?” Lori asked and Rick did laugh at that.

“Nah.” He said. “Just helping out a friend of the family.” Lori knew there was more to the story but she didn’t push it and Rick moved on to “introduce” Beth to the others.

“I think we met once or twice b’fore.” Merle drawled when they came to him. Rick could see the caginess in his face but Beth just shot him a smile and looked at Daryl. Rick breathed a sigh of relief. If Beth was willing to give Merle a shot for Daryl’s sake he was pretty sure Maggie would be, too. Maggie. Did she remember? He glanced at Shane and felt a rock settle in his stomach. Would they let Shane stay, knowing all he’d done? Even if he hadn’t done it yet?

“Pleasure t’meet y’all.” Beth said brightly and Rick noticed she was still holding Carl’s hand. She bent to pick up her rabbits with the other one and slung them over her shoulder. “Rick, a lot has changed since you were last here. Why don’t you walk with me to the house? I’m sure Daddy will want to talk to you.” Rick raised an eyebrow at her, hopeful, but she smiled and shook her head in a silent apology. Hershel didn’t remember. Damn.

She looked over the group. “The rest of you want to drive to the gate and wait, we’ll talk to Daddy about setting you folks up.”

Rick shot Carol and Merle a look and they nodded. They would look after everyone while he was talking to Hershel. Carl hung on tight to Beth’s hand, making it clear he was coming too and Rick turned to Shane. He gently detached Lori from his elbow, ignoring the surprise in her eyes as he guided her back towards his partner.

“Get everyone into the cars.” He said. “Keep a close eye. I’ll talk to Hershel.” Shane nodded but Rick could see a question in his eyes. He pretended he didn’t notice and turned to follow Beth and Carl up the road.

As soon as the last car door slammed Beth began to swing Carl’s hand in hers.

“How long have you known?” Carl asked immediately, having to double-step to keep up with Beth’s much longer legs.

“A few weeks before it all happened.” She said, tugging him to the side of the road so the cars could roll slowly past.

“The fence?” Rick asked, pointing to the new construction.

Beth smiled. “Daddy doesn’t remember, but when I told him what was coming he believed me. We went and bought the fencing and a bunch of supplies about a week before it all started up again, had it up in a few days.”

“You told him?” Rick felt a twinge of worry for the old vet. “And he’s alright?”

Beth threw him a curious glance. “He’s jus’ fine. Why?” Rick told her quietly about Merle, Jim, and Jacqui. Her face sobered and she hitched the string of game a little higher on her shoulder. “Daddy’s been fine. Confused, scared, like all of us were the first time. But fine.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays that way.” Rick said.

“Morgan is okay.” Carl reminded him and Beth glanced at the cruiser Morgan had taken over driving.

“He’s new.” She observed. “Who is he?”

“Later.” Carl squeezed her hand. “What about Maggie?” Rick’s stomach clenched as he thought about the older Greene girl, her strength, her resilience, her fire. She was in the farmhouse ahead. He picked up the pace a little bit.

Beth smiled down at Carl. “She’s good. I didn’t tell her.” She shot Rick a guilty look. “After… after I left her…”

“She lived.” Rick told her, reaching out to rub her slender shoulder. “She made it.”

“I knew she would. She’s always been tough as nails. But…” Beth shrugged. “I didn’t tell her ‘cause I didn’t want her to have to remember that. Daddy left us first, so he didn’t have to remember losing us. But Maggie...” She sighed. “Did everyone else make it out of Grady?”

Rick nodded. “We lost Noah not long after, though. And Tyrese. We found a place, people. Lived there for a long time. It was alright for a while.” Rick’s throat threatened to close at the memories of the years in Alexandria when things had been good, or at least as close to good as things got nowadays.

“That’s good.” Beth said with a smile. “I’m glad.”

“Who else remembers?” Carl asked and Beth shook her head.

“Just me.” She told them. “What about you?”

“Me, Dad, Carol, and Merle. That’s it so far.”

“So far?”

“Carol only remembered this morning.” Carl explained. “So I figure more people might start remembering, maybe?”

“And Merle? He seems different.” Beth’s smile was a bit skeptical and Carl snorted.

“He’s in it for Daryl, he says.” He told her and she pursed her lips, thinking.

“He was different at the end.” She allowed and Carl shrugged.

“I told him I’d shoot him if he steps out of line.” He said and Beth didn’t laugh. She just nodded. She remembered who Carl had become and knew the threat was not an idle one.

“We’ll see.” She said. “A lot has changed here since the last time. Momma and Shawn are alive.” Rick could feel the joy in her words like a punch in the gut. “Otis and Patricia. We pretty much bought out the Costco just before it happened. Rented a truck and everything.”

“Jesus.” Rick breathed. Supplies. They had supplies. Food and tools. Hershel would have known what medical supplies would be useful, what foods would keep. They had a wall. It wasn’t as strong as Alexandria’s but it would keep all but the biggest herds out for now. They could train everyone to survive and stood a good chance of keeping them all alive while they did it. He stopped in the road and pulled Beth into another hug. Little Beth, who had loved his daughter like a sister, loved his son. She’d grown so much, going from the frail young girl they’d first met to the brave, smart woman who had died doing what was right. And here she was now making a place for all of them, protecting them as they’d protected her. She squeezed him back with one arm and smiled as she let go.

Beth.

Rick felt the familiar vicious curl in his stomach as he looked down at Carl. It wasn’t safe, it would never be safe, really, but they had a place now. A place to train and learn and live. They would defend it. Carl glanced up at him and Rick could see the same resolve hardening his young face.

They reached the fence and Beth finally let go of Carl’s hand to rap on the heavy metal gate. “Maggie! Shawn!” Beth not-quite-shouted. “We got visitors!”

After a moment the gate slid back and a young man with dirty-blond curls and enormous blue eyes peeked his face out. He had a rifle hitched over his shoulder and a pistol on his hip. Rick was pleased to see a knife on the other one and hoped Beth had been teaching them not to use guns when they didn’t have to.

“Beth?” the young man asked and Rick knew he must be her older half-brother, Shawn. The resemblance was too strong.

“Go tell Daddy we’ve got some friends here, the people I told him about.” Beth said and Shawn cast Rick a suspicious glance. When he caught sight of Carl, though, he paused before opening the gate.

“C’mon in.” He said. “If Bethy says you’re good people I ain’t gonna argue. Gotten worse than Mags, lately.” That last was muttered as he spun towards the house.

Shawn closed the gate behind them and Rick’s head swam with memories as he followed Beth up onto the wide-planked porch. The first time, carrying Carl limp and bleeding through this door, Hershel’s voice snapping as he ordered Patricia to prepare his kit. Lori’s face as she saw Carl pale and still in the hospital bed…

Rick stumbled slightly as they went past the room where Hershel had saved Carl’s life. Beth caught his elbow and guided him gently into the kitchen.

“Daddy!” she called softly and Rick heard familiar footsteps. Then there was Hershel, appearing in the doorway and looking Rick up and down with a sharp-eyed smile.

“Beth, honey.” He said, coming to kiss his daughter’s cheek. He looked down at Carl and Rick noted tears in his son’s eyes again. “Who are these folks?”

“This is Rick.” Beth told him. “And Carl. The ones I told you about.” Hershel looked the pair of them over, his face calm and inscrutable.

“Well.” He said. “Perhaps we’d better have ourselves a talk.”

Rick closed his eyes as he remembered all the times that voice had poked a hole in the insanity that had consumed him so many days at the prison, had poured wisdom and reason into his mind when it had been swamped by chaos.

“Shawn, go tell your mother we’re going to have guests for dinner, will ya?” Shawn nodded, looking perplexed but not arguing as he took the string of rabbits from Beth and headed out. “Well, c’mon.” Hershel led them all into the little study where Rick had waited for him to pull bullet fragments out of Carl’s abdomen and Rick’s knees shook. Carl came to take his hand and Rick gripped it too tight, grateful. When they were all seated, Beth perched on a footstool and Carl on Rick’s knee, the two older men taking the wingback chairs beside the window, Hershel gazed over his steepled fingers at Rick.

“I heard an account from my daughter a few months back,” he said, “telling me about a future. She said she’d lived through a terrible time and gotten sent back to before it all started, that she needed to make a difference.”

Rick nodded. “That’s true.” He said. “My son and I, we remember, too. And a few of our other people. You saved his life, once.” Rick pulled Carl against his chest to reassure himself the boy was alive, not bleeding out in the bed across the hall. “And then a dozen more times. We became family.” Beth shot him a smile so bright he was surprised he could still see anything else. “We survived all this for a long time.”

Hershel nodded, considering in that careful, calm way of his. God, how Rick had missed him. “I trust my daughter.” Hershel said eventually. “And whether it be through the grace of God or some other means she has been blessed with the knowledge to keep our family safe through this terrible time. She said some folks would find us here, join us and help us stay alive. But she said a few other things, too. Terrible things. Some of them done by you. I trust her, but I don’t know you.”

“Daddy,” Beth huffed out an annoyed breath, “I told you them things because I was trying to make you understand! Rick is our leader, he’s the only reason half of us made it as far as we did.” Hershel didn’t reply, just watched Rick where he sat.

Rick leaned back, chewing on his lip as he tried to think of what to say. Carl beat him to it.

“We know you.” He said. Hershel looked at him, his bushy eyebrows raising slightly as the boy spoke. “You are part of our family. Otis shot me and you took out the bullet. You helped my dad after we lost my mom and I couldn’t. You kept my baby sister alive. You saved Glenn when the whole prison was sick. You gave Merle a chance when none of us wanted to. You were like a grandfather to me and to Judith. You tried your best to keep us human.”

Hershel blinked slowly, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. He rocked his head back and forth, moustache bristling as he studied Carl.“Son, I would like to believe you. But some of the things Beth has told me your daddy did, they aren’t things I can stand behind.” Rick closed his eyes, remembering so much of what he’d done. Randall, Shane, the Governor, Michonne. The tombs, Sasha and Tyrese… He’d been drowning when Hershel knew him. And this Hershel didn’t even remember how he’d gotten lost.

Carl smiled. “Not yet. But you learned.” He told the old man.

Hershel didn’t rear back, didn’t protest that it wasn’t about learning. “What do you mean?” he asked instead.

Carl glanced at Beth. “Did you tell him everything?” he asked and Beth glanced at the floor. Rick winced and Carl sighed. When he looked up at Hershel again it was with pity in his face. “The way the world is now makes you leave a lot of stuff behind.” He said, almost gentle. “The first time you thought the walkers were just sick. You put them all your barn and fed them. Your son and your wife got killed and you put them in there, too. You lied to us and had us living a few dozen yards from a barn full of monsters. But you learned. When the barn burned down and your wife’s body tried to eat Beth, you learned. You left behind the part of yourself that wanted to hope without reason.”

Hershel frowned. “Hope is what keeps a man moving, son.” He said quietly. “Especially in times as dark as these.”

Carl nodded. “And reason is what keeps a man alive.” He countered. “You taught us both. How to balance them. Hope will get you killed. Reason will hollow you out. You have to have both.”

Hershel stared at him for a long while and Rick just held his son. Carl had been a good man, even at the end. He’d grown up in a strange and sometimes terrible family, but he had come through it with some of the best parts of every one of them. Rick pressed his nose into Carl’s hair and willed Hershel to see sense in Carl’s words.

“So what are you askin’ of me?” Hershel said at last, sitting back in his chair.

Carl smiled. “You made sure we didn’t leave all the good things behind. We need you to do that again. We need you to be our family.”

Beth reached across and ruffled his hair and Hershel watched her. Rick could see the love in Beth’s eyes and knew Hershel could, too.

“Please.” Said Rick, soft.

Hershel looked at him and Rick did his best to let everything show. Fence or no fence, supplies or none, Hershel was family and they needed him.

Finally, Hershel said. “Well alright, then.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” Beth reached over to kiss his cheek. “You’ll see.”

“We’ll bring your people in,” Hershel told Rick, patting Beth’s arm as she released him. “We got some lumber, can build y’all some cabins. ’Til then I’m afraid we only got a few rooms spare.”

“We’ll make it work.” Rick smiled and stood as Carl hopped off his lap. He offered Hershel his hand and the old man took it, giving it a firm shake. “Thank you, Hershel.”

“Your welcome. Don’t make me regret it.” The old vet smiled.


	10. Red Sea

The next four weeks were odd.

The group from the quarry got settled in, pitching their tents close to the house and getting friendly with Hershel and his extended family. When Otis and Maggie returned from checking the other end of the lines Beth had been working on Maggie smiled politely at them all, her short hair curling around her ears and her cheeks bright red in the heat. Rick wondered if he would ever stop being shocked at how young they all were. But though she was bright and welcoming, it was clear Maggie had no idea who they were. Glenn stared at her for a moment and Rick felt a glimmer of hope but then Glenn caught himself and looked away, embarrassed. Carol shot Rick a smirk and he shook his head.

Hershel and Rick stuck to the story of old family friends but Rick knew that wouldn’t hold up for long. Never mind that Rick could count on one hand the number of people in his life before the end of the world that Shane and Lori didn’t know, Hershel himself didn’t remember Rick which made the whole thing pretty difficult to keep up. Rick did his best to dodge the subject whenever it was brought up and focus on getting everyone trained. There was plenty to do to keep folks distracted, thankfully.

He was relieved that neither Otis nor Patricia seemed to remember anything but it was just bizarre to see Glenn and Maggie treating each other like strangers. Carl noted the same thing one night, in one of the rare moments they were alone pulling water from the well.

“It’s weird to miss them, right?” he murmured as he watched Maggie and Glenn walk along the fence perimeter together, a careful distance between them. “They’re right here, but…” Carl shrugged and Rick nodded.

“But they’re not really them. Not all the way.” He agreed.

“I don’t know if it’s better or worse.” Carl sighed as he lugged a half-full bucket towards the house. “They’re all so young, so innocent.”

“Coming from you that’s funny.” Rick chuckled, lifting his own full bucket one-handed and ruffling Carl’s hair with the other hand.

“Fuck off.” Carl scoffed without any heat. “I know not remembering means they haven’t suffered like that yet, but I miss our family.”

Rick could only agree. They were all different, but Maggie and Glenn was probably the strangest change. Maggie was still a spitfire, tough and capable and rolling with the fact that the farm had suddenly gained fourteen new pairs of hands. Glenn was young and chatty and nervous like he hadn’t been in years, making stupid jokes and putting his foot in his mouth more often than not. Clearly the attraction they’d felt the first time was still there. They would shoot each other smiles, flirt a little here and there, but that was about all, at least in front of the others. But where they’d been an unbreakable partnership before, two halves of the same whole, now they were just two kids dancing around each other and it hurt Rick’s head to watch.

The rest of them made the farm their home pretty quickly. Shane and Hershel got with Otis on security and most days Shane and Rick went on short patrols outside the fence, checking the nearest crossroads and sweeping the farm’s perimeter. They would take Andrea, Otis, T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie and Morgan along in little groups to get them used to being outside the safety of the fence, but Rick always made sure to leave Carol, Merle, Carl and Beth inside where they could defend everyone else if something went wrong while he was away. It was still early in the disaster and the fields and woods around them were mostly deserted, but they all got practice killing a handful of walkers at a time here and there. By just a few weeks in Rick was pleased to see that the terror the walkers always triggered was dying down, leaving them free to think on their feet.

Daryl slipped in and out of the farm like a ghost, often reappearing with random supplies someone had mentioned wanting. Rick hated the idea of Daryl out there on his own, raiding stores in town and putting himself at risk without anyone to back him up, but he’d gotten used to that base-level anxiety for his friend years and years ago. Daryl had always needed a bit more space than the rest of them. At least this time around he usually told Merle when he thought he’d be back.

Anette, Patricia, Andrea, and Lori sat down the first night and planned out a chore rota, splitting all the work of the farm between the new members of the group and looking at the plans Hershel had for the place. The old vet had managed to get clear tarps and pipe frames for a few greenhouses before the world ended and T-Dog and Andrea were so eager for fresh fruit and vegetables again that they agreed they’d set one up immediately. Merle helpfully pointed out to the blonde that it would take months to grow anything and she told him to shut up with a dreamy smile on her face. Amy and Lori helped Anette and Patricia around the house, cooking for twenty or so people was anything but a light task. Rick was glad to see Lori sticking close to the house. He tried not to think of Judith often because it scared the daylights out of him trying to figure out if she would even still be born now that everything was changed, but either way he wasn’t going to risk Lori until she was better able to defend herself.

She tried, the first night they were on the farm, to get Rick to come to bed with her. Beth had settled the question of who would be taking the spare bedrooms by just assigning them to people and he was grateful Lori had gotten a place in the house. If Judith was on the way Lori needed a proper bed and as much rest as possible, which she wasn’t going to get sleeping in a tent. So that first night as Lori had turned to go upstairs she had taken Rick’s hand and given it a little tug. But Shane was watching them and as wonderful as the night at the quarry had been Rick knew he had to let Lori go. So he’d simply smiled, kissed her cheek and said goodnight.

Carol and Beth only watched the exchange, never asked Rick about the fact that he and Lori were clearly not together anymore. He figured they must understand why he couldn’t be Lori’s husband after all he’d been and done. Lori distanced herself after that. Whether it was because she was trying to give Rick space to come back to her or whether she was just so busy she didn’t have time to worry about their relationship Rick wasn’t sure, but he was sure she needed more time before she would accept that they were really done.

Shane tried once or twice to get him to talk to Lori, work it out. Rick appreciated the effort but shut that down every time.

“We’re not going to work.” He told Shane. “And I don’t want to keep hurting all three of us by trying.”

Shane had looked surprised that he was included in Rick’s consideration and that twisted a pin in Rick’s heart. Had he really been so blind to what his friend had been going through the first time? Yeah, he supposed he had.

Beth, Carl, and Carol focused on training Duane and Sophia how to fight and run, how to stay quiet and how to keep on their toes. Amy and Shawn joined in after watching for a few days, clearly realizing they were barely any better prepared for the way the world was now than the kids were. Merle was busy teaching Andrea how to shoot and fight, acting like some sort of cheesy hero in those old western rom-coms Lori used to like back before. Rick nearly cringed himself stupid one day three weeks in as Merle did the whole “let me guide your shot” thing and slithered up behind Andrea, pressing himself all against her back and putting his big hand over hers on the pistol in a way that would have totally ruined any shot. But if the way Andrea’s grin turned predatory as she glanced over her shoulder at Merle was anything to go by the completely idiotic move was working.

“Tsk.” Rick turned to find Daryl coming out of the barn with his crossbow, a disgusted look on his face as he took in the horrific sight of his older brother on the prowl.

“I know.” Rick murmured, making a face at the pair as Andrea suddenly dropped her pistol, turning to plant a messy kiss on Merle’s mouth. The redneck seemed all in for this development. He grabbed her by the waist and the kiss quickly turned filthy. “C’mon.” Rick said, turning away before the lunch Anette had served up made a sudden reappearance. “I been needing to stretch my legs and _nobody_ needs to see that.”

Daryl didn’t protest, just followed Rick around the house out to the gate. Shane was just coming in with Beth, head bent as she showed him something in her hand.

“What’s that?” Rick asked, coming alongside.

“Just showing Shane how this snare works.” Beth said and Rick noted another string of possums, rabbits, and a fat raccoon over her shoulder. Hershel had bought four enormous chest freezers and solar panels to run them and turned the barn into a massive food storage. It was certainly a nice change from the last time but it had been strange to walk into that barn and find nothing but straw, stacks of animal feed, and some farm equipment. The freezers meant they could stockpile meat in the summer and Beth, Maggie and Otis had been doing just that with their long line of snares through the woods.

Rick leaned over to look, recognizing the knot. It was simple and would trap smaller animals quick enough to break a neck or a leg. Bigger animals like coyotes and deer would break right through it, though, which meant a lot of snares got wasted. He’d have to see about a run in to a hardware store, or maybe Hershel had some tough coated wire in the barn somewhere.

“Where’d you get that?” Daryl asked and Rick looked up. The hunter was staring at the piece of string in Beth’s hand, eyes narrow and suspicious. Rick blinked as he realized why. Daryl had taught them all that knot. It was one he’d made up himself as a kid, an improvement on the ones most people used for slipknots. It pulled tighter faster so they had all ended up using it when it was their turn to set snares.

“An old friend taught me how to do it.” Beth said, smiling at him serenely. “I miss him.”

Daryl chewed on the corner of his lip and without thinking Rick just reached out, letting two fingers bump against the back of Daryl’s arm to draw his attention away from the bit of string. It was such a familiar gesture, like the touch to Shane’s head the morning they’d arrived here, but Daryl flinched away like he’d been burned. Rick froze, a shot of hurt fizzling through his gut.

“How about we try and get another deer?” Rick asked, refusing to highlight the moment. Daryl wasn’t used to him anymore, didn’t trust Rick. Daryl’s shoulder bumping Rick’s or his knuckles tapping Rick’s too-thin belly weren’t normal for him, no longer just part of their everyday communication. Every touch was foreign now, like it had been back when they’d first met. It had taken months and years for that bubble of space Daryl jealously guarded around himself to dissipate, even if Rick barely remembered what it was like to have that sort of distance between them. But the bigger deal Rick or any of the others made of Daryl’s aversion to touch the worse it would get, Rick was sure. That’s how it had been when Daryl had first started testing that boundary last time. So Rick acted like he hadn’t noticed and gestured to the gate. “Still got a whole freezer free and we should try to make some jerky so we’ve always got travel food.”

“What you know about huntin’, City Boy?” Daryl gruffed and Rick chuckled.

“Friend ‘a mine taught me.” he said, trading a glance with Beth. He remembered days and days spent in the woods with Daryl, learning to track, where to shoot so an animal went down quick, how to gauge the wind so you didn’t spook the game. More often than not in those first months it had ended with Daryl laughing his ass off and getting the only kill but eventually Rick had gotten the hang of it. At least enough that he wouldn’t have starved on his own, anyway. “I ain’t as good as him but he made sure I wasn’t gonna shoot myself in the foot or end up gored by a wild hog or something.” He chuckled, remembering _that_ day particularly well. Rick had lost most of the skin on his palms scrambling up that tree but he’d narrowly avoided being trampled to death by a massive boar before Daryl had put an arrow through it’s spine so he hadn’t really minded the bandages. Besides, the animal had tasted heavenly.

Daryl looked him up and down as if he were trying to imagine Rick out on a hunt.

“When the hell you ever go huntin’?” Shane asked and Rick shrugged.

“’S a long time ago, now.” He admitted.

“I think a little venison would be great.” Beth said, heading off that line of questioning neatly. “I’ll go ask Daddy and Otis if they ever got the stuff for that smokehouse they was talkin’ about. Maybe Shane and T-Dog can help ‘em put it together if they did?”

Shane shrugged and passed Rick the rifle he’d been carrying. Rick nodded his thanks and checked the chamber, taking the little box of bullets from Shane and stuffing it in his pocket.

“C’mon” he said to Daryl as he checked that all his knives were in place. “Let’s see what we can do about a deer.” He swung the gate open but before they could step out Carl called out softly from the porch.

“Daryl!” he said, trotting over to catch the hunter’s hand and tug him to a stop. Rick turned to see the other two kids crowded behind Carl, staring nervously. Daryl lifted his chin at the boy, a little of the habitual wariness melting away as Carl let go of his hand. “I want to show Sophia and Duane how to use a knife against someone bigger than them. When you and Dad get back, will you help?”

Daryl cocked his head. “T-Dog’s bigger’n me.” He pointed out.

Carl flicked his hand dismissively. “T-Dog’s not as good with a knife as you. And you’re quicker. Besides,” he looked over at Sophia and smiled, “T-Dog’s kind of clumsy. He might mess it up. We know you’d never hurt her, even accidentally.”

Daryl froze stock still. Rick’s chest ached a little as he watched the shock settle on his friend’s face. This Daryl didn’t know. It wasn’t just that he didn’t trust the others to see good in him, see his true value, it was that he didn’t see it himself. Not yet. He didn’t know in the very center of his bones how much they needed him, relied on him, loved him.

_Good for nothing Dixon._

Well, that would change fucking _fast_ if Rick, Carol, and Carl had anything to do with it. Beth, too, Rick was sure.

“Uh…” Daryl said eloquently and Rick chuckled. “Sure, kid.” Carl grinned and the three kids ran off, laughing quietly in excitement. The hunter just stood there, staring after them for a long moment.

“It’s just a little hero-worship.” Rick murmured to him, grinning when Daryl jumped. “Nothing to worry about.” Daryl shot him a glare and Rick’s smile widened. “Carl’s a pretty good judge of character, you know.” He said.

“Shut up.” Daryl muttered and shoved past Rick through the gate.

It was good to be out in the world again, just the two of them. They hadn’t risked the others by taking them out too far, yet, which meant Rick had been restricted to right around the farm, too. He remembered those first suffocating days in Alexandria, the illusion of safety that had threatened to swamp them all. It had taken Carl pulling them outside the walls to remind them how dangerous that illusion could be. This time Rick wouldn’t lose sight of how things really were, even if almost everyone else were content playing house inside the farm’s fences.

He fell into step beside Daryl easy as anything, moving slow and quiet like Daryl had taught him. They didn’t speak, just wandered in a random direction until they picked up a set of deer tracks in the mud around one of the little patches of swamp that dotted the farm. Rick nodded at Daryl, letting him take the lead. Even younger and with ten fewer years of gnawing hunger driving his footsteps Daryl was a better hunter and tracker than Rick would ever be. Besides, his bolts were quiet and reusable.

“This friend of yours,” Daryl grunted, bending low to stare at a patch of leaves, “he ever teach you not to walk all over the tracks you’re following?

Rick looked down just in time to see himself step directly on one of the deer tracks clear in the dirt. He chuckled and took a deliberate step to the side. “He tried.” Rick admitted, “Never quite broke me of the habit, though, I guess.” It was true. More than once Daryl had read him the riot act for trampling all over the trail, making it a pain in the ass to double back if they’d needed to. It was good to know that pissed Daryl off no matter how much he remembered of Rick. Daryl shook his head and they moved on.

It was still a little over an hour or so to sundown and Rick knew they might be out here for a while before the deer started getting really active, but with Daryl still so inexperienced with walkers he didn’t want to be out past the fence much past dark. As Daryl slipped into hunting mode Rick could almost pretend it was the same man he knew out here with him, the silent, dangerous presence that kept them all safe through the years. God, he missed Daryl. He missed the quiet moments like these when they could just turn off the constant thoughts of food and shelter and safety and walkers and walls. They could just walk side by side through the trees or sit in silence staring off into the dark and rest. He missed talking with him, just letting his words tumble out and bounce back at him off Daryl’s silence. He missed watching the way the hunter’s face would twist at Rick’s bad ideas, light up at the good ones, stay totally still until Rick figured out the difference for himself. He missed those times when with just a few words Daryl could turn a whole idea on its head, cleaving a path through Rick’s confusion like Moses parting the Red Sea. And as much as he wanted them all safe, he missed fighting beside him, focused and totally confident that they’d have each other’s backs.

Just as it was beginning to get dark Daryl’s hand flashed up and Rick froze, listening hard for whatever Daryl had caught that he hadn’t. There, a crunch, too heavy and clumsy to be a deer. Rick glanced at Daryl and said a prayer that the wild hog fiasco wasn’t about to repeat itself.

“You sure?” a too-loud voice huffed and Daryl and Rick immediately dropped into a crouch, using the thick brush to hide their shapes. “I don’t want to be out here chasing my dick in circles just ‘cause you’re trying to impress Harlan.”

“I’m tellin’ ya.” Another voice said and Rick’s gut twisted in recognition. He was shocked that after ten years the boy’s voice still registered in his memory but it was Randall tramping through the woods a few dozen yards away, talking to an older man Rick didn’t recognize. “They came in to town, bought up a whole bunch ‘a fencin’ and gardenin’ stuff. Cleared out the Costco, too.”

“Think they knew what was comin’?” asked the older man and Randall scoffed.

“How in the hell would anyone know a thing like that?” he demanded and Rick bit his lip. “Crazy old man probably just got paranoid, watching too much Doomsday Preppers or somethin’.”

“Paranoia pays off. Either way, if they’re still alive sounds like they’ve got a hell of a lot of food.”

“And a fence, probably.” Randall agreed. He was quiet for a moment and when he spoke again there was something dark and slippery in his tone. “I remember his girls, Maggie and that other one. She’d probably be ‘bout sixteen by now. Real cute.”

“Well there’s a bonus.” Snickered the older man. “Been too long since Harlan brought that pair of asian chicks in.”

“They were hot.” Randall sighed and Rick felt his stomach revolt. “Harlan never let me have a go at them. I bet if I took out the old guy and brought him Maggie he’d let me have first turn with the younger one.”

“You givin’ him the good one?” The other guy scoffed and Randall snorted.

“Nah, Maggie’s a bitch. Let Harlan deal with her. He likes the ones that fight.”

“We could just get there first.” Suggested the other guy. “What Harlan don’t know won’t hurt us.”

Beside Rick Daryl was a statue. Rick could sense the rage pouring off him. He glanced over, locking eyes with the hunter for a split second before Daryl nodded. Rick nodded back and slipped away, drawing his knife and flanking the pair of them. As soon as they got close enough to the bushes where Daryl crouched he fired, taking the older man through the neck and dropping him squirming to the leaves.

Randall gaped. He had just long enough to stare down at his dying friend and mutter “what the hell?” before Rick’s knife jammed into the back of his skull. Randall fell twitching beside the other one and Rick wrenched his blade free.

“C’mon.” He hissed quietly. “There’s more.”

Daryl followed him, pausing just long enough to step on the dead man’s head and pull the arrow from his neck to jam it in his eye and scramble the guy’s brain. Rick led him through the woods, following the wide, obvious trail the pair had left. The two dead assholes must have been scouting for the farm because it was nearly two miles before they reached a camp and Daryl hauled Rick behind a tree.

Rick counted twenty-two men crowded around a huge bonfire, laughing and drinking from a big case of beer. They were all armed, mostly with heavy artillery and Rick cursed himself for not bringing anything bigger than the rifle.

“Too many.” Daryl hissed and Rick shook his head.

“Can’t risk leavin’ ‘em here.” He whispered back. “They’ll go looking for the other two and when they find them they’ll come for the farm. Better to end it here.”

Daryl stared at him but Rick didn’t care. He wouldn’t do this again, couldn’t lose half of them and the farm to these pieces of shit.

“You cover me.” He hissed and handed Daryl the rifle and box of bullets.

As he moved to rise Daryl gripped his elbow. “You fucking crazy?” he demanded. Rick shook him off. They didn’t have time for this. Surprise was their only advantage and the longer they waited here the more likely they were to lose it.

“Trust me.” Rick demanded and Daryl blinked. He let go of Rick’s arm and picked up the rifle.

“Dumbass.” Daryl muttered and Rick flashed him a grin totally devoid of humor. He melted back into the brush, circling the camp until he was catty-corner to Daryl’s position. A handful of men with the most dangerous weapons, all the automatic rifles except one, were gathered on this side of the fire and Rick was glad they were all too stupid to have a gun actually in hand.

“Gotta piss.” One said, stumbling drunkenly over the log where he sat and into the woods off to Rick’s left. Rick let him go. The dumb fuck hadn’t even brought a gun with him. He focused instead on the ones who appeared most sober. He recognized the three from the bar, the little one in the red shirt and the fat man Rick had killed before. They were slow, too slow to stop him.

He stood and without bothering to try and conceal his actions marched into the firelight, a knife in one hand and the python in the other. Two of them were dead before he even fired a shot, then another three before the rest had figured out what was going on. Then things got hairy. He dipped under the punch one of the drunk ones tried to throw and ripped his knife across the guy’s belly, spilling guts all over the forest floor. He left that one trying to pile his intestines back inside himself and emptied his python straight into the heads of three more. He dropped the empty revolver into the leaves and snatched a submachine gun one of them was pointing in his face, kicking the guy in the balls hard enough to bring him to his knees as he did.

Rick bit down on a scream as fire ripped through his calf. If he’d had time for a spare thought it would have been to wonder when gunshot wounds began to feel familiar. As his leg threatened to collapse out from under him he dropped to one knee beside the guy clutching his nuts and a few shots went wild over his head. Rick turned the submachine gun on the rest of the camp, sending a spray of bullets at the dozen or so men scrambling for their weapons and getting a chorus of screams back. One of them managed to snatch a shotgun and bring it up towards Rick but his head exploded in a mess of gore as Daryl shot him.

The idiot who’d gone for a piss came charging back, hollering loud enough Rick barely had to look to aim properly before shooting him through the head. Four quick bursts of gunfire dropped the rest. Then it was just a matter of darting around and braining each of them before they could crawl for a weapon and take out their killer.

The whole thing took less than two minutes and in the end Rick knelt panting, his hand aching from the kickback and blood flowing freely from his leg. He was drenched in blood and sweat. Daryl emerged from the bushes, eyes wide and hands shaking. He stared at Rick and Rick couldn’t be bothered to hide how exhausted he was. He dropped to his butt in the leaves as the adrenaline shook out of his limbs.

Fuck.

“Holy shit.” Daryl breathed, looking around at the devastation Rick had dealt.

Rick snorted and dragged himself to his feet. His hands shook and he remembered suddenly that he was only a month or so off of a coma. He stumbled and Daryl automatically reached out to catch him.

“You hit?” Daryl asked, wild-eyed.

“Went through.” Rick grunted, pointing to his leg. “Ain’t a good idea to go stumbling through the woods in the dark smellin’ like blood, though.”

“You dumb sonovabitch.” Daryl hissed and Rick couldn’t help the shaky laugh that bubbled out of him. _You gonna go and die on me?_

“Help me get back to that stream we passed.” Rick said, forcing himself to his feet again. “You can leave me there and go back to the farm for one of the horses.”

“The fuck I will!” Daryl argued as he hitched Rick up under the armpits but Rick gripped his shoulder.

“We gotta get their guns and supplies.” Rick told him and Daryl looked at him like he was crazy. “You want the next group of assholes who wanders this way to find this many weapons this close to us?”

Daryl worked his jaw but finally he nodded. “Fine.” He said at last. “But if you die waitin’ out here I’m gon’ be pissed.” Rick laughed.

Together they made it to the little stream and Rick pointed to a rock sticking up right in the middle. Daryl helped him over to it and Rick lay back on the cool stone. His head was spinning, probably the blood loss.

“You got a belt?” he asked and Daryl snatched the strap off his crossbow, using it as a tourniquet around the lower half of Rick’s leg.

“That thing got any ammo left?” Daryl nodded at the gun still clutched in Rick’s hand. Rick checked the clip with fumbling fingers.

“Yeah.” He said. “Plenty. G’on. Bring Carol. Or Merle.”

“Carol?” Daryl balked and Rick just nodded. As the hunter turned to go Rick snatched his wrist. “Daryl, whatever you do don’t bring Shane back here. You got it?” Daryl gave him another wild-eyed look but he nodded and Rick let him go.

As the hunter disappeared into the gathering dark Rick leaned back on the stone and tried to focus on anything but the throbbing pain in his calf. Shane couldn’t know about this. If anything were going to trigger his memory it had to be Randall, right? He closed his eyes and prayed the smell of fresh blood from the camp was strong enough to draw any walkers away from him while he waited. He kept the gun in hand, just in case.

He had no idea how long it was before he heard three pairs of feet carefully picking their way towards him. Carol clicked her tongue and Rick whistled back, pulling himself back into a sitting position and cursing his frozen joints. A rock in the middle of a stream might not have been the best idea for a resting spot but no walkers had come for him so maybe not that dumb, either. Carol splashed through the stream to stand at his side.

“Rick?” She asked and Rick nodded.

“I’m alright.”

“You got a real fucked up definition of ‘alright’, Friendly.” Merle drawled and Rick chuckled.

“What happened?” Carol demanded, helping Rick to stand.

“Randall’s group.” He said and even in the dark he could see her face pale. “He saw Hershel buying supplies.”

“And he wanted them.” Carol said in a tone like flint.

“Said he wanted Beth, too.” Daryl grunted.

“You get them all?” Carol asked.

“Pretty sure.” Rick said. “If not the others ain’t anywhere around to hear gunshots. Or they took off when they did.”

“Good.” She dragged his arm over her shoulder and started helping him up the bank. He looked around, confused. Maybe it was the dark and the blood loss and the adrenaline crash and everything else that had gotten fucked up in the last hour or two, but he could have sworn the farm was in the other direction.

“We brought a car.” Carol explained, sensing his confusion. “The road’s not far. We’ll get you there and then clean up.”

“Right.” They guided him to T-Dog’s SUV and Daryl sat with him while Merle and Carol rapidly picked through the camp.

Rick was leaning his head back against the seat when Daryl finally spoke up.

“That was some thing you did.” He murmured and Rick hated that he couldn’t tell if it was admiration or revulsion in the hunter’s tone.

“Had to.” He sighed. “Y’heard what they were gonna do.”

Daryl nodded. “I heard.”

They didn’t say any more and after a few minutes Merle and Carol loaded up the guns and ammo and climbed in, Merle pulling them back around to head for the farm. Rick tried to stay alert as they drove in silence but his head was getting fuzzier and fuzzier. Despite his best efforts his eyes slipped closed, his head drooping onto Daryl’s shoulder as he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one went a different direction than I originally intended. I really struggle to write fight scenes so please let me know if this came off too stilted or confusing.


	11. Hear Me Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the feedback on the last chapter. This one took a while to get the way I wanted it and I’m still not sure I’m 100% happy, but here it goes anyway. Enjoy!

He came to with Shane shouting his name.

“Rick?”

He blinked and tried to make sense of the dim light coming through the windshield. They were inside the fence, Merle killing the engine so Carol could hop out and come around to Rick’s door. Daryl’s shoulder was warm against his cheek and Rick sighed as he contemplated moving. Damn, but he didn’t want to. But as Daryl reached over him to help Carol swing Rick’s leg off the center console where they’d elevated it Rick groaned.

“M’fine.” He sighed. “I can do it.”

“Rick! Rick, what the fuck!?” Shane was practically crawling over Carol to get to him.

“Dad?” Carl was there, his freckled cheeks drawn in a serious little frown.

“Fine,” Rick repeated. “Through shot.”

“Jesus Christ!” Shane gasped, eyes bugging as he took in the tourniquet Daryl had improvised. Rick nearly laughed at his panic. If one gunshot wound freaked him out like that what would he make of the carnage Rick left in the woods?

“Go get Hershel.” Carol told Carl calmly and the boy took off into the house.

“Rick?” He looked up to see Lori pale and shaking on the porch, her thin fingers pressed to her mouth and tears in her eyes. He was too exhausted to do more than smile in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

“What in the hell happened?” Shane snapped and Rick winced as he tugged Rick’s arm over his shoulder, hauling him to his feet. Merle slipped under Rick’s other armpit and between the three of them they began to shuffle him toward the porch.

“Some guys in the woods.” Daryl explained, trailing along behind. Rick could feel the hunter’s eyes on the back of his head. The others were coming around from the back of the house, hushed and frightened as they realized Rick was injured. “Talkin’ ‘bout comin’ in here and gettin’ the girls, taking all the supplies. Killin’ the old man.”

“What guys?” Shane demanded and Rick cut that off real quick.

“Dead.” He grunted.

Shane flashed him a shocked look and Rick couldn’t be bothered to hide the dead-eyed exhaustion he felt sweep through him. They’d been far enough away that if everyone was in the house and not listening properly they probably wouldn’t have heard the gunshots. Maybe he could pass it off as just a couple guys, two or three with lots of weapons and evil intent. He knew the level of violence he had displayed out there in the woods would terrify the rest of the group. Hell, even Daryl was looking at him like he was some kind of wild animal, a lunatic out for blood. Which was a fair comparison, Rick guessed, after the display he’d put on.

They took him to the bed where Carl had once lain, bleeding out and so small, and helped prop him up against the headboard. Hershel appeared with his kit bag and immediately took over, shooing Merle and Shane back towards the wall.

“Patricia, set up a tray there.” He said, pointing toward the end of the bed. “I’m going to want saline and a catch pan. Tissue forceps and the rat-tooths, my olsen-hegars and some artery forceps. And get the vycril on a round needle. The smallest we have.” Patricia nodded and started zipping about, laying out a bunch of shiny surgical tools in what Rick hoped was some sort of logical order.

“Beth, honey, get that anatomy book out and bring me the lidocaine and gloves. You’re going to help me do a block.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Beth said and disappeared.

“Rick, you got any allergies I need to know about?” Hershel demanded and Rick shook his head. “Good.”

Rick drifted in and out of a familiar haze he knew too well. It always seeped in, crept over him after an extreme burst of violence. It was always there with him when he found himself standing in the center of a killing field, somehow still breathing. He’d felt it in the tombs after Lori died, along the fences when Daryl and Merle had returned to pull him from the teeth aiming for his neck. He’d felt it at Terminus, on the road with blood in his beard and Carl crying behind him in a busted out van. It had been with him as he lay in the sun bleeding, waiting to die.

_It’s what we do._

_You can’t see yourself. He can._

_You dumb sonovabitch. You gonna go and die on me?_

“Alright, we’re clean. Drape that, Maggie.” Rick snapped back to find Maggie laying clean cloths around the wound to his calf and fixing them in place with strange pointy clips. He realized as she gathered a big lump of skin into the clip that he couldn’t feel anything below his knee. Carl slipped onto the bed beside him and took his hand, cuddling up to Rick’s side and watching the flash of Hershel’s instruments in the light. Rick leaned his face into Carl’s hair and tried not to think about what Hershel was doing.

He drifted.

When he woke again Carl was gone and Shane was slumped asleep in the chair beside the bed. He had his arms crossed over his stomach and Rick smiled as he remembered all the times he’d teased Shane about sleeping sitting up in the cruiser. Rick flexed his toes, pleased that he could feel them again. He tried to wiggle further upright, glad to find that someone had pulled off his bloodstained shirt. He must have made a sound as he struggled to get up because Shane’s eyes blinked open. As soon as he saw Rick was awake he shot forward, hands ready to brace Rick as if he thought he was about to tumble out of the bed. Rick waved him off and put both feet on the floor, testing the injured one a little. He winced. It certainly didn’t feel good, but he’d had worse. Much worse. And he was sure Hershel had done as neat a job as always with whatever was under the bandage he was sporting.

“Rick, slow down, man!” Shane half-whispered. “For Christ’s sake you’ve been shot!”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Rick grunted as he pushed himself up to stand. He took a few tentative steps, pleased that he would be able to hobble about fairly comfortably in no time. He guessed by the inky black outside the window and the near-total silence of the house it was the middle of the night. His gun belt was sitting on the nightstand and he drew it on, immediately feeling more secure once it was fastened in place.

“Rick!” Shane hissed and Rick turned to face his friend. Shane was staring at him and it wasn’t just concern in his face. Fear. Shane was scared. For him or of him, Rick didn’t know. Maybe both. He sighed and sat back down on the bed, swinging his injured leg carefully onto the mattress. He settled back against the pillows and looked at Shane, closing his eyes and nodding his head slightly.

“G’on.” He muttered and Shane sucked in a breath. “Y’got questions. Ask ‘em.”

Shane dragged his fingers through his hair and let all his wild-eyed confusion show. “What the fuck, man?” he asked. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

Rick chuckled. “You mean besides the end of the world?”

Shane crossed his arms and glared. “I’m serious. Make this make sense, Rick.”

Rick shook his head. “They were gonna come for us. I stopped them.”

“Rick, you killed them.” Shane told him like he thought Rick didn’t know. “That asshole redneck won’t even tell me how many!”

Rick felt his expression lock down. “I’m gonna tell you this one time, Shane, so listen real good. You better get the fuck over whatever you got against Daryl. He’s one of the best men you’re ever going to know so pull your head out of your ass.” He warned, low and dangerous. Shane reared back, blinking at him.

“What is _with_ you?” he demanded. “Rick you met these people a month ago. And now all of a sudden you got these friends I ain’t never heard word one about?” he gestured to the house around them. “You go huntin’ now when I know for a _fact_ you hate all them redneck Bass Pro Shop good ol’ boys. You _left_ Lori! Like it was nothin’! You stabbed Dale in the head and didn’t even blink! You find some guys in the woods and you merk ‘em all and call in fucking _Carol_ to help you when you’ve been shot? And now you’re best buddies with Merle and Daryl Dixon? What the fuck?”

Rick dropped his head back against the headboard. How in the hell was he meant to explain any of this to Shane? How was he meant to contextualize ten years of suffering, insanity, and death to a man who already thought he was out of his mind?

“Those guys… Those guys would have destroyed this place.” He tried. It didn’t escape him that this was a bizarre mirror of the conversation they’d had years ago, just before Shane had tried to kill him. Shane had argued that killing Randall was the right thing, the safe thing. Rick had been horrified. And now Shane was the one looking at Rick like he’d grown fangs or something. It was almost funny. Had Shane been the one built for this new world all along? “They wanted to kill us all, rape the women, do god-knows-what to the kids. Carl, Sophia, Duane. They’d ‘a killed ‘em, or worse. They’d ‘a burned this place to the ground and not felt a damn thing. I couldn’t let that happen.” He lifted his head to look his brother in the eye, to make him understand. “This is my family now, Shane. All of you. And I am going to keep you all breathin’ as long as I can.”

Shane stared at him a long time, chewing on the corner of his mouth. “Rick, yer scarin’ me. And it ain’t just me.”

Rick shuddered. “I know.” He admitted. “I know. I’m different. It’s all different. And I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way to explain, to show you. I promise. But… you gotta give me some time, Shane. You gotta let me figure out how.” Shane frowned at him and Rick reached out to grab his shoulder. “Please.”

Shane was silent, but after a few moments he nodded. “A’right. A’right, Rick.” He said and Rick smiled.

“Thank you.” He gave Shane’s shoulder a little shove as he let go and struggled back to his feet. Shane immediately leaned forward to offer Rick his arm and help steady him.

“Woah, man, woah!” he said and Rick chuckled.

“Gotta piss.” He explained and Shane huffed a little chuckle.

“Ah. Well let’s get out to the powder-room then, missus.” Rick snorted and limped along, leaning heavily on Shane with a chest full of gratitude.

* * * * *

Over the next few days Rick nearly pulled his hair out. Except for Carol, Carl, Beth and Merle everyone was tip-toeing around him like he was a grenade without a pin. Hershel checked his wound every day, a disapproving glint in his eye that Rick was sure had been tempered by Beth. Even at the end Hershel had looked for a way to resolve things with his words and knowing Rick had jumped straight to murder couldn’t be sitting right with the old man. Beth had to be trying to explain, maybe telling him who Randall was and what his presence had sparked last time. Rick hoped she was getting through.

Patricia and Anette would bring him food and help him out to the porch - he could do it on his own but he allowed them to help him anyway - and fuss over him like he was a sick child. Maggie and Glenn would shoot him nervous smiles when they saw him. T-Dog and Andrea would just nod, their eyes cagey. Amy and Shawn avoided him altogether. Lori would come sit by his bed with Carl and act like they were back in that hospital, just there for a visit. She would tell him about all the chores on the farm, about what the kids were learning and what Anette and Patricia were teaching her. Shane made a point of clapping his back and smiling too wide every time Rick hobbled around the yard with a carved wooden cane Hershel had pulled out of a closet somewhere. Rick appreciated the effort but it didn’t seem to be doing much to convince the others to ignore the incident in the woods.

And Daryl. Daryl had disappeared again. Rick would catch a flash of him slipping in or out of the gate, his shoulders hunched and grip tight around the strap of his crossbow. When he asked Merle about it the older Dixon just shrugged.

“Y’freaked ‘im out, I think.” He said, watching Daryl and Otis sorting through the straight sticks they’d gathered to try and help Daryl make spare bolts on the work-bench near the barn. “Hell, Friendly, ya freaked me out. He’s gonna protect this family, same as you, but he ain’t been through the shit you and I been through yet. He ain’t figured it out yet. And that…” he hitched his thumb in the general direction of the camp Rick had destroyed, “I get why you did it, and I’d ‘a try to do the same, but,” he shook his head and left it unfinished.

Rick sighed, staring at Daryl and willing the man to look up. He got it, he did, but that didn’t mean the distance between them didn’t hurt. He’d relied on Daryl’s approval so much the last eight or nine years, that quiet nod that told him his violence was justified, that Daryl would have done the same. How many times had a pinch of distaste in Daryl’s eyes stopped Rick in his tracks, made him look at himself and his choices through a different lens?

“Rick?” Lori’s voice was a harsh snap. “I need to speak to you.” She shot Merle a glare. “Alone.”

Merle whistled. “Good luck with that, Friendly.” He chuckled and tripped down off the porch.

Rick glared after him but turned to follow Lori as she marched into the house. She led him into the little room he’d come to think of as the sick room, shutting the door and planting her palms on her hips in the way that told Rick she was building up to a real storm. Rick lowered himself to the bed to give his aching calf a rest. She paced back and forth along the wall, shaking out her hair as she gathered the poison on her tongue.

“Rick.” She said, low and husky. “I know you’re angry with me but you can’t just shut me out like this. We need to be able to talk to each other.”

Rick blinked at her. “Angry?” he repeated. “What are you talking about?”

Lori gave a disgusted huff and shot him a sad glare. “Don’t shut me out like this, Rick.” She said, her voice thick. “I know you’re mad at me for being with Shane. Hell, I’m mad at myself. But twelve years. We’ve had twelve years of a life together and I’m not willing to just throw that away. Not now.”

Rick could see the fine tremors rippling through her fingers as he tried to make her words make sense. “Lori,” he spread his hands, “I’m not angry.”

She let out a scornful little laugh. “No? Then why don’t you even look at me anymore?” she demanded. “I’m trying, Rick. I really am. I’m trying to show you that I still love you. We were going to work it out, right before you got shot and I had to tell our _son_ about it. Shane was there for that, Rick. He was there for Carl. He was there for us when the world was literally ending.”

“I know that.” Rick said, trying to keep his tone gentle.

“And then against all the odds,” Lori bulled ahead, “I get you back and…” she bit her lip as tears bloomed in her enormous eyes, “and now you can’t even stand to look at me, sit next to me at dinner. You’ve got time enough for these strangers but your wife?”

Rick cocked his head at her. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

Lori ignored him, already on a roll. “You’ve got a kind word for every other person in this place. We’re safe now and we have time to work on us but you won’t even acknowledge me. It’s always Carol. Or Morgan. Or Merle and Daryl Fucking Dixon. This family you haven’t seen in god-knows-how-long. You even talk with Shane, like he’s not just as much at fault as I am. But me?”

A twinge of annoyance flickered in Rick’s belly. “We’re not safe, Lori.” He told her flatly. “We’re never going to be safe again.”

Lori sneered at him. “We have a fence. Food. Guns enough to last out whatever this is.”

Rick snorted. “There’s no lasting this out. This is how the world is now, the old one’s not coming back.”

“You don’t know that!” she hissed. “There’s got to be someone, the government, scientists, someone, who knows how to end this.”

“There isn’t.” Rick told her.

Lori threw up her hands, swinging her hair dramatically behind her like she always used to do when they were fighting about cell phone bills and overtime. “I can’t believe you!” She shook her head. “You have no idea what’s going on out there. All of a sudden you’re acting like… like…” she blew out a breath. “I don’t even know. We’re as safe as we’re ever going to get but you’re not willing to even try, here?”

“Try what?”

“To work this out! I know you want to punish me for sleeping with Shane. I get it. But I will not let you punish Carl like that. We’re all he has left.”

Rick blinked. “Carl is fine.” He said and Lori barked a sad laugh.

“He is so far from ‘fine’, Rick.” She informed him. She was pacing again, back and forth along the end of his bed. “Jesus! Have you not even noticed what is going on with your own son?”

“What?” Rick snapped. Carl was fine, but of course Lori couldn’t see that. She couldn’t see past the twelve-year-old face to the man beneath.

“Do you know what he was doing this morning while you and Merle was shooting the shit on the porch?” She demanded and Rick shrugged.

“He said he was going to be with Duane and Sophia.”

“He was. And Carol. And they all had guns, Rick. Your son, your _little boy_ had a loaded gun in his hand.” Rick couldn’t help it. He laughed. Lori’s face went stone-still. “You think that’s funny? Your twelve year old son, your _boy_ had a loaded pistol and you are laughing?”

Rick shook his head. “People are dying. Getting eaten. Carl needs to know how to defend himself.”

Lori stared at him. “I cannot believe you.” She said.

“All the kids should learn to shoot. Carol and Beth are already teaching them knife-work. They need to know if they’re going to make it.”

“Do you even _hear_ yourself?” Lori gasped. “They’re _children!_ ”

“Which means they’re the most vulnerable.” Rick shot back.

“And you didn’t think that you should maybe discuss this with me? I’m his _mother!”_ Rick paused. She had a point. It had been years since he’d had to ask for anyone else’s input on Carl and Judith, too long since he’d become a single father.

“You’re right.” He said and Lori paused in her pacing. “That wasn’t fair. I should’a told you. But Lori, you’ve got to see that they need to know how to protect themselves.”

“They’re _safe_ here!” she insisted and Rick shook his head.

“What happens if that fence falls? What happens if someone dies in their sleep and suddenly we’ve got a walker inside? What happens if someone comes by like those guys in the woods and wants to hurt them? There’s nothing to stop people anymore but us. And if something happens to us Carl needs to know how to survive on his own. You’ve got to see that.”

Lori shook her head stubbornly. “I am not comfortable with our twelve-year-old having a gun.” She insisted.

Rick scoffed and she flashed him a heated glare. “Are you comfortable with anything that’s happening out there?” he asked. “Lori, comfort doesn’t come into it anymore! This is about surviving. I don’t give a damn if it offends your sensibilities. Carl is going to be able to keep himself alive.”

“And that’s it?” she hissed. “Since when do you have the right to just tell everyone else how it’s going to be? I am your wife! We’re a _team_!”

“That is over!” Rick snapped and Lori went absolutely still. The blood all drained from her face and he ignored the way tears crowded her eyes again. “Lori, I told you. We can’t be together anymore. I am not the man you married and I’m never going to be again. There’s more important shit now than you and me.”

“Rick,” Lori whispered and Rick shook his head.

“I’m not angry. This isn’t about you and Shane. I’m doing what needs to be done and you need to accept it.” He stood, grabbing his cane and hobbling to the door. His hand was on the handle when he heard her trembling breath behind him.

“I’m pregnant.” She whispered and Rick froze.

_Oh, thank God!_

When he turned back to her she had her skinny arms crossed over her belly and a look of absolute terror in her eyes.

“Rick, I think… I think I’m pregnant.” She repeated and he let the relief he felt bloom over his face. “I’m not sure… but I’m, I’m late. I’m never late.” Judith. Judith would be here. He would have his baby girl. He limped back to Lori, reaching up to cup her cheek gently in one hand.

“That’s wonderful.” He said and Lori blinked at him. “Really, Lori, it is. We’ll love her. She’ll be beautiful and strong. Carl will adore her. And we’ll keep the both of you safe.” That last part wasn’t something he could promise but he promised her anyway. This time she would live to meet her daughter. “And I will always love you for giving me her and Carl.”

Lori reached up to grip his hand. “So you’ll let me work on us? You’ll let us try?”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, drowning in the smell of her hair. “No.” He whispered and she stiffened. “I will love her but I can’t be the man you married anymore.”

“You _bastard!”_ Lori twisted away from him and fled, tears hitting the floor as he stood and watched her go.

“Rick?” Beth ducked her head in the open door, blue eyes wide. “What happened?”

“Judith.” He said and Beth’s face broke out in a glorious smile.

“Thank goodness!” she gasped and came to hug him. He accepted it, glad at least that someone understood. When she stood back she asked, “Does Carl know? I know he’s been worried about it.”

“I don’t know.” Rick admitted. “I guess we’d better go tell him.”

They headed back out off the porch and into the bright summer sun. As they made their way across the lawn Glenn and Patricia waved from where they were coming back from the chicken coop with a basket full of eggs each. Otis and Daryl were heading in from the workbench and Shane was lounging by the gate. Daryl shot Rick a look the deputy couldn’t parse but then there was a whistle and Shane jogged over to open the gate. In rode Maggie and Shawn on two high-stepping bays, Maggie’s short hair curling around her ears and her cheeks bright red from the heat. They each had a bundle of green twigs slung over their saddle horns and Rick remembered Hershel talking the night before at dinner about all the different plants out in the woods that were edible. He’d thought maybe they should be gathering seeds, clearing some patches near the fence to plant orchards just outside.

Maggie swung down from the saddle and as her boots hit grass Rick heard a strange choking sound behind him. He turned to find Glenn staring, his mouth wide open and his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon.

“…Maggie?” he breathed. Maggie’s head snapped up and Rick could have sworn he saw the world shift as recognition bloomed in her face. The basket of eggs Glenn carried hit the grass with a muffle thump.

“Glenn?” she whispered. Then louder, “Glenn!”

She flew across the lawn, tackling him to the ground in a flood of tears and peppering his face with kisses.Glenn held her so tight Rick was sure there would be bruises, but he was also sure Maggie wouldn’t mind. He looked up to see Beth smiling, tears in her eyes as she watched the pair of them.

“I was hoping it would go like that.” She admitted quietly. “That they’d remember together.”

Rick looked around at the rest of them, all staring in shock at the unexpected reunion.

Patricia looked nonplussed by the pair practically sobbing at her feet. Hershel and Anette came out of the house, drawn by the commotion. Hershel gripped the railing of the porch and glanced at Rick, confused, but Rick couldn’t find it in himself to care. Maggie and Glenn. They were together again. They remembered.

“Beth!” Maggie gasped and leapt to her feet, turning to find her little sister’s arms open and waiting. The two fell into each other, Maggie twining her fingers in Beth’s hair the way Rick couldn’t seem to stop doing with Carl.

“I’m sorry, Maggie.” Beth murmured. “I was so stupid. I-“

“No baby girl, no!” Maggie shushed her. “You did what was right. You did.” She kissed her sister’s cheek, then again, and turned to pull Glenn into a hug with the both of them.

After a moment Maggie looked up. “Daddy!” She ran up the porch and nearly tackled Hershel with the same force she’d thrown at Glenn. Hershel caught her, shocked, and Anette stroked Maggie’s back as she cried and cried.

After a long while and another round of hugs for her sister and husband, Shawn and Anette - both of whom looked completely stunned - Maggie looked to Rick. She leapt off the top step, coming to stand before him with wonder in her eyes. He smiled, pulling her close and kissing her temple.

“Rick. Jesus, Rick.” She whispered and he kissed her again.

“I know.” He murmured. When Maggie took a step back Glenn took her place, grasping the back of Rick’s neck and staring him in the face.

“Rick?” he said, still seeming completely stunned. Rick just nodded and hugged him. “We were there and then, then we were…Christ, you knew? The whole time you knew?” Glenn murmured into Rick’s shoulder. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me walking in the store like some Escape from New York wannabe!”

Rick laughed. “Yeah.” He said. “Couldn’t believe you didn’t remember me.”

“I’m sorry, man. I don’t… how did this happen?” Glenn ran a hand through his hair, reaching out for Maggie again on reflex. She caught his hand, tangling their fingers together with a smile.

Rick just shrugged. “Dunno. I-“

“You!” Rick spun, automatically reaching for the python at the rage-filled shout. Otis stood, knife in hand, staring at Shane with a face full of thunder. Shane stared back, perplexed, and Otis stormed forward. Shane took a step back, reaching for his rifle, but Rick was quicker. Before the ranch hand could take two steps Rick had the barrel of the python pressed to Otis’s forehead and the hammer cocked.

“Slow down, friend.” He said in his most deadly calm tone. Otis froze.

“Woah, woah!” Glenn jumped to Rick’s side, holding one hand towards Otis and gripping Rick by the bicep. “Hold on, Rick!”

“Rick?” Otis’s cheeks wobbled as he tried to shake his head without actually moving it. The knife slipped from his fingers and hit the grass. He stared at Rick and Rick knew the farm hand recognized him, remembered him.

“What… how…” Otis broke out in a semi-hysterical laugh. “Where’s the boy? Where’s the boy I shot?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he reached down, ripping at his t-shirt like it was suffocating him. “They’s eating me!” he screamed. The fabric of his shirt shredded under his hands, his nails digging jagged furrows in his flabby chest. “I shot him! You murdering son of a bitch! I didn’t see him and now I’m dead!” he lunged at Shane and Rick slammed the butt of the python against the back of his head. It was enough to bring the big man to his knees but he kept crawling forward.

“You killed me, you bastard!” Otis shrieked.

He grabbed at Shane’s pant-leg and Shane kicked out, stumbling back in shock. “Get the hell off me, asshole!” he shouted. Otis reached again and Shane kicked harder. His boot caught Otis in the face.

“Otis!” Patricia shouted, dodging forward to try and pry her husband off Shane. “Otis, honey, stop!” The big man shoved her away, gave a wild laugh and spat blood into the grass.

“You leavin’ me? You son of a bitch, you leavin’?” he cackled as Shane scrambled away on his butt and Hershel and Anette shouted for Otis to stop. Otis ignored them. Merle and Daryl darted forward as one, dragging Otis up by the shoulders and trying to pull him away from Shane. Otis shook like a dog and they stumbled back. As Merle lunged in again Otis slugged him, snatching Merle’s pistol from his belt. He fired twice wildly and Rick heard Patricia scream just before she dropped to the ground. And then suddenly Otis was pointing the gun at Daryl’s head and Rick saw red.

A gunshot rang out, blasting them all into silence.

Otis collapsed to the dirt, his head a mess of bone and brain as Rick let the smoking python drop to his side. The yard was dead silent for all of three seconds before it erupted in shouting. Carol, Carl, and Morgan came running from the back of the house with guns drawn and the others all hot on their heels. The horses were running spooked. Patricia was slumped on the ground, wide eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. Otis had killed her. Anette was screaming, some of the others, too, but Rick ignored it all. He took three big strides across the grass, stepping over Otis’s limp arm without even noticing and gripping Daryl by the back of the head. He wanted to press their foreheads together, feel Daryl’s breath against his skin and know that he was alive.

Instead he caught Daryl’s knuckles with his jaw.

Rick found himself laying in a pool of Otis’s blood, his ears ringing and Daryl staring down at him with rage twisting his face.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” the hunter hollered and Rick closed his eyes, letting his head fall back in the dirt.

“Christ, you got some right hook.” Rick groaned and rubbed at the bruise he could already feel darkening his cheek.

“Daryl, Daryl!” Maggie jumped between them, fending off Daryl’s next punch and kneeling to help Rick up.

The hunter glared at her. “The fuck you think you’re touchin’, bitch?” he snapped and Maggie straightened like she’d been electrocuted.

“Woah there, little brother, woah!” Merle said, coming to pull Daryl away. Daryl jerked his shoulder but Merle kept hold of him while Maggie helped Rick back to his feet. T-Dog and Shawn ran to try and calm the horses and Sophia and Duane were standing stock still and crying at the edge of the porch. Carol ran to check Patricia’s pulse, shaking her head grimly after a few moments. She quietly took her knife out and brained the woman, drawing a shocked gasp from Anette.

“You’re going to get off my farm.” Hershel’s voice cut through the chaos and Rick looked up to find the old man gripping the porch rail, red-faced and wrathful. “Your going to take your people and leave this place!” He ordered.

Rick opened his mouth to protest but Beth and Maggie beat him to it.

“He ain’t leavin’!”

“Daddy, please listen!”

Hershel stared at the pair of them, horrified as they both placed themselves between him and Rick. Glenn came up beside them, his expression calm and resolute.

“Hershel, you’ve got to hear us out.” He said. Before Hershel could tell him no Glenn lowered his voice, that intense half-whisper that demanded attention and calm. “There’s too many people here, children. Otis attacked Shane, he shot Patricia. He was going to shoot Daryl. Rick couldn’t let that happen.”

Carl stepped up on the porch, still holding the gun that looked almost comically big in his little hand. “Dad?” he said calmly. “I think we’ve got to tell them.”

Rick looked at his son, at Carol and Merle, Maggie, Glenn and Beth.

“Carl-“

“Otis came to it on his own.” Carl cut him off. “He remembered on his own and still,” he gestured to Otis’s still form.

“No point in protectin’ ‘em if’n they’re gonna go off the deep end either way.” Merle grumbled and Carol nodded.

“What the hell are y’all talkin’ about?” Shane demanded and Rick shut his eyes.

It was true. Otis had remembered, just like Carol. One minute he had been blissfully unaware and then suddenly he’d recognized Shane and…

“Alright.” Rick sighed, holstering the python. “Alright.”

“Daddy, we’ve got to hear him out.” Maggie told him. Hershel cast her a glare but didn’t argue. He watched as Maggie turned to look at the rest of them, her face flooding with everything she remembered of them all of a sudden. “Glenn, you and I will take care of Otis and Patricia.” She said loud enough for them all to hear. “Everyone else inside.”

Everyone followed her guidance, everyone but Rick, Shane, Daryl, Hershel and Merle. Rick stared down at Otis’s body, wondering why. Why had he exploded like that? There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to who just remembered and who…

“I’ll hear you out.” Hershel said. “I owe it to my daughters and to the children, but don’t think this will go unpunished.” He glanced at Otis’s body where it lay in a pool of blood, Patricia’s not far away. Rick sighed.

“Alright.” He said again.

Hershel went inside, the heels of his boots clacking a damning tattoo on the porch boards. “C’mon, Friendly.” Merle sighed and clapped Rick on the shoulder as he trotted towards the door. “Better get in there and explain this whole shit show. It ain’t gon’ be fun, I tell you.” Daryl slipped by, glaring daggers at Rick as he followed his brother into the hall.

Shane scraped his fingers along his scalp and looked at Rick, eyes huge and confused.

“I said I’d explain, right?” Rick shrugged lamely. “Looks like I’m out of time to figure out how.”

Shane took a step up onto the porch but Rick reached out, catching him by the elbow and forcing Shane to face him. Shane cocked his head and Rick swallowed.

“Shane,” he began only to stall immediately. This was it. If Shane remembered, if Shane became the man he had been at the end… “Please just,” Rick shook his head and tried again. “This is going to be hard to hear. But please, _please_ remember that it doesn’t have to go like that. You’re my brother. You can still be my brother.”

Shane went pale. “Rick, the fuck are you talkin’ about?” he asked quietly and Rick shook his head. He pulled his friend in for a hug, clapping the back of his head just in case it was the last time he’d get to do it.

“We’re brothers.” He told Shane. Then he let him go, turned, and walked into the house to face his family and tell them the truth.


	12. For Better or Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...  
> Also little note: one of you helpfully pointed out that I flubbed Hershel's wife's name. Josephine was Maggie's mum, Anette was Beth's. I'll eventually go back and fix that but for now from here on out it's Anette.
> 
> UPDATE: I think I fixed the Anette/Josephine thing. Let me know if you spot any risidual Josephine's

They gathered in the living room, hushed and tense as they waited for Rick to speak. Beth slipped out to Maggie and Glenn, and when they returned she shared a nod with Merle and Carol. Rick watched as those that remembered spread out through the room, arranging themselves among those that didn’t know. Rick appreciated the caution. After what Otis had done…

“Before we start this,” It was Carol that spoke up. She led Sophia to Carl, placing her little hand in his with a solemn nod. Carl nodded back and held on tight, reaching out with his other hand to grab Duane’s. The taller boy looked startled but didn’t object. Rick could see he was terrified. Carol looked around. “Before we start this everyone needs to put their weapons in the center of the room. All of them.”

Shane balked but the rest all shuffled forward, placing their guns and knives on the little parlour table Anette had just that morning laid out with biscuits. Rick nearly laughed at the juxtaposition.

“Shane?” Carol said, arching an eyebrow. Shane looked to Rick, who nodded, and reluctantly placed his shotgun on top of the pile.

“Sidearm, too.” Rick told him and Shane frowned but did as he was told. When Carol was satisfied she gathered them all up to take into the kitchen. Rick approved. It had only taken Otis a second to grab Merle’s pistol and Patricia had died for it.

He stopped Carol on her way by to hand her his gun belt and the six different knives he was carrying. He guessed by the looks of shock and horror that no one had quite realized he’d had that many on him, no one that didn’t remember, anyway. Carol was unphased. She simply nodded her thanks and continued on to the kitchen. When she returned she sat primly on the end of the sofa beside Andrea and nodded to Rick. He looked around, saw the fear in their faces.

“I don’t know where to start.” He admitted.

"Tell ‘em what you told me.” Morgan suggested. “I didn’t…” he gestured out towards the yard, “do that. Maybe it was in the way you told it.”

Rick pursed his lips. He didn’t rightly remember exactly how he’d started it with Morgan.

Morgan guessed his train of thought. “You told me we were friends, that I’d saved your life once.” He prompted.

Rick nodded. He pushed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “This is going to sound insane.” He prefaced. “I know it is. But it’s the truth.”

“You shot Otis.” Hershel cut him off. He was glaring at Rick, cheeks splotchy with anger. Rick nodded.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “I did.”

“What was that?” Shane demanded. “What was he saying about ‘I killed him’? ” Rick bowed his head. Bite the bullet. That’s how he’d done it with Morgan.

“You did.” Rick told him, raising sad eyes to meet Shane’s. “Last time.”

There was a beat of silence before Shane spoke.

“Last time?” he repeated and Rick nearly chuckled. It was like some stage play, a script for them to follow.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Last time. We’ve done this before.”

“Done what?” T-Dog demanded.

“The end ‘a the world.” Merle chipped in. Carol shot him a look and he clammed up. Daryl was staring at the side of his brother’s face but Merle was doing his best not to notice. Rick wondered how lucid Merle had been in trying to explain this whole thing to him the first time. He was guessing not very.

“We’ve all lived through this before.” Rick told the room. “The outbreak, the cities shutting down, the military, the quarry, everything. Most of you, I know.” He nodded an apology to Shawn and Anette. “Those of you that survived long enough. We met last time, became a family. And there are more of us out there. I woke up remembering everything that happened over the last ten years but for some reason not everyone does.”

They all just stared at him until Andrea shook her head. “Rick, you’ve been through a lot the last few days.” She began but Carl shot her a harsh look.

“For once just shut up and listen, Andrea.” He snapped and she blinked at him.

“I know how it must sound.” Rick said. “But you got to let me explain. Then… well then if you don’t believe me…” he shrugged. How the hell was he meant to do this?

“We can help.” Carol told him softly and Rick glanced at her. “You don’t have to do it on your own.” Rick nodded. It was true. With so many of them all telling the same story it had to sound less like the rantings of a violent madman, right?

“Maybe we should start with who does remember?” Beth suggested. “I remembered before the outbreak, that’s why we got a fence here. That’s why we got enough supplies and room for y’all. I knew you’d be comin’ and I wanted to make sure my family was safe. That’s all y’all. Well,” she let her eyes glide over Shane, Amy. “Nearly all y’all. Shawn.” She took her half-brother’s hand and patted it gently. “You didn’t make it last time. You and Momma got bit, got turned. Remember when I told you not to try an’ help ‘em? That’s cause that’s how you died last time. It was real early on, before we knew what was happening.”

Shawn stared at her, blue eyes enormous, but he didn’t argue or tell her she was nuts. He also didn’t burst into violent psychosis so there was that, at least.

“I ‘membered ‘bout a month ‘fore it all went down.” Merle volunteered. “Thought it were some crazy drug trip. Made me get my act together. I…” he shifted, his jaw working, “I weren’t no peach, last time.” He looked at Glenn. “I’s fucked up back then, Korea.” He said. “An’ I did some shit t’ya I ain’t proud of. But I ain’t gonna be like that again. I been workin’ hard ta get my brother back to y’all an’ if ya can’t gimme a second chance - an’ lord knows I couldn’t blame ya! - at least don’t make him choose this time.” Glenn just stared at him, face inscrutable.

Merle looked to Maggie, his expression more serious than Rick could ever remember it being. “An’ you. I gotta say this ‘fore I lose my chance. What the Gov’nor was gon’ do ta you, it weren’t right.” Maggie didn’t react, just stared back at him. “I ain’t never done nothin’ like that in my life, even with all the fucked up shit I done. That was a line I weren’t never gon’ cross. I got ta see what that does to a woman.” He flicked his eyes to Daryl as Daryl sucked in a breath and Rick remembered what Merle had told him about their mother. “But I didn’t stop it. I didn’t keep ya outta his way. I handed ya over ta him and tol’ myself it weren’t my business what he were gonna do. An’ that ain’t… I get that ya might not be able ta forgive me for that.” Maggie’s brow tightened as Merle lowered his head.

Then, very clearly, he said, “But I am sorry.” Rick tried to remember if he’d ever heard the older Dixon say those words. After a long, silent moment, Maggie nodded. Merle blew out a breath and shot her a tentative grin.

“I’ve remembered for months.” Carl spoke up. He looked at his mother where she sat between Maggie and Anette. “That’s why I seem so different. I am different. I lived ten years through this. I’ve been starved, beaten, stabbed, assaulted, shot, and nearly eaten. I’ve killed people and lost people, learned how to keep my family alive and myself. Last time we came to this farm it was because Otis accidentally shot me. That’s what he was yelling about out there.” He gestured to the window. “I was the boy he shot. He was hunting, shot a deer and the bullet went through. It hit me and fragmented. I almost died. Hershel and Patricia saved me.”

“Carl,” Lori’s eyes were rolling out of her head but Carl shushed her.

“Just listen, Mom.” He said. “Sophia,” he turned to the little girl, “remember how I told you that if you’re ever lost you need to climb a tree? Get high up?”

Sophia nodded. “Yeah. You said walkers can’t climb good and if I’m up high our people can see me, find me.”

“That’s right.” Carl smiled. “You were my best friend last time. We met in the quarry. But something happened and you got lost. You were smart and you tried to hide from the walkers but you hid down low. They found you. You died.” He looked up at Daryl, who was leaning tense against the wall and scowling. “Daryl spent weeks looking for you. We were stuck here because I’d been shot but he wouldn’t give up. Remember I told you he’s a hero? That if you needed help ask Daryl?” Sophia nodded again and Daryl twitched. “That’s cause he is. He went out all alone to find you, day after day. So if you’re ever in trouble you know you can trust Daryl, right?”

“Right.” Sophia nodded and smiled at the hunter.

“What about me?” Duane asked and Rick could see so much of Morgan in the stoic, thoughtful expression the boy wore.

Carl shook his head. “I never got to meet you. Your dad stayed behind when my dad came to the quarry. You died there. When I met Morgan again it was years later and he had gone crazy after losing you.”

Duane gulped, tears threatening to spill down his face. Instead he just nodded and went to go climb into Morgan’s lap. Morgan gathered him up, kissing his forehead and resting his cheek on Duane’s hair.

“What Dad did to Otis, that’s what happens when someone threatens our family. Daryl is our family.” Carl stared Hershel down but the old man didn’t relent.

“Beth told me this story before. I believed her. But what happened out there-“

“What happened out there is yer boy went nuts.” Merle told him. “Happened to the first couple people I told. Dunno why. Maybe their brains couldn’t handle it all, maybe they remembered dyin’. I dunno. But that’s why we didn’t tell y’all right away. Jackie, Jim. They killed theyselves jus’ after I tried ta tell ‘em.”

“But it doesn’t always happen like that.” Carol said. “I remembered the morning Ed died. I was there, the way I was at the start, and then I was me again, the me that lived through it all. I’m not sure how to explain it.” She looked to Maggie and Glenn.

“It’s weird.” Glenn agreed. He glanced at his wife and got an encouraging smile in return. “It was like… like I was one version of myself and then I looked up and there she was and…” he shrugged. “All of a sudden the rest of me came crowding back in.”

Maggie reached out and took his hand. “It was just like that.” She agreed. “There were two of me in my head for a minute, the me who didn’t know you and the me who did.”

“Mags?” Shawn asked, eyeing the pair of them holding hands. Maggie laughed.

“He’s my husband, Shawn.” She told her step-brother. “I just remembered, out there. He said my name like that and…” she shook her head. “The last time this all happened Glenn and I got married. We stuck together through everything. Through losing Daddy, losing Beth.”

“She’s my everything.” Glenn agreed and Rick saw Merle roll his eyes at the sweet words. Glenn looked at Hershel. “You’re my father-in-law. Beth is my sister. You taught me how to be a better man. But it took you some time to get to grips with the way the world is now. You made a lot of mistakes. We all did.”

“And how is it, now?” Lori asked, pale and staring.

“Kill or be killed, mostly.” Glenn admitted. “But it doesn’t always have to be. We tried to keep ourselves human through it all. Rick… Rick was our leader.” Lori turned her gaze on Rick like he was Superman and he clenched his jaw. Damnit, she wasn’t getting this.

“I told you the army isn’t coming.” Rick looked to Shane. “I told you there isn’t any way out of this but through. I know because I lived it. Ten years of it. You asked me what happened to me. That’s what happened, Shane. Ten years of this.” He spread his hands. “And I had to do it without you, without Lori. We lost so many. T-Dog and Andrea, Hershel. Beth.” Beth gave him a sad smile.

“What do you mean, without me an’ Lori?” Shane asked and Rick rubbed a palm across his forehead.

“He killed you.” Carl told him, dead-eyed. Shane stared at the boy, sweat breaking out on his upper lip. “You went crazy. You were sleeping with my mom, just like this time.” A little chorus of gasps echoed around the room. “And you wanted her and me for yourself. Dad came back and started leading the way you couldn’t and you got jealous, angry. He made mistakes and it drove you crazy.” Carl shot Rick an ironic little smile. “You know, I think Shane might have been right about some things, last time. Randall, for one.”

Rick nodded. “I know. But we were dumb and soft. And I couldn’t see it.”

“I think we’re getting a little lost, here.” Carol said. “Should we just start at the beginning?”

So that’s what they did. Rick began with waking up at the hospital the first time, the panic, confusion. He told them all how he’d met Morgan and Duane, how they’d parted ways and how he’d gone to Atlanta looking for survivors. Glenn helped him tell them all about the way they’d gotten out, about Morales who they’d never met and Merle going off the rails. The older Dixon happily chipped in details of his gruesome escape, shooting T-Dog a wink.

“Don’t blame you none for that, big guy.” He assured him. “Not anymore. I was a real dickhead then, high as a kite. And ya was scared half-stupid.”

Rick told them about meeting them all at the quarry, the first reunion with Carl, Lori and Shane. Meeting Daryl and going back to Atlanta with him and Glenn after Merle only to find a bloody hand. Carol described the attack on the camp, patting Amy’s knee as she told her about Andrea’s greif over her death. The days on the highway, splitting up, Otis and Carl. Maggie told Lori about how she’d gone to fetch her, how she’d needed to be by Carl’s side in case he hadn’t made it.

“You said you needed supplies from the medical college.” Rick told Hershel as they came to the night Otis died before. “Otis and Shane volunteered to go. Only Shane came back.” Shane was pale, his hands shaking as he listened to all he’d done.

“We didn’t know, not then, that Shane had done it on purpose. He might have been able to get them both out, but he didn’t try.” Carol told the room. “He left Otis behind so that he could get away and save Carl.”

There was a long moment of complete silence as the group took that in. Then Shane spun on his heel, marched out of the room and they heard the screen door slam. Rick hung his head.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, Friendly.” Merle murmured and slipped out after Shane. Rick wasn’t so sure Merle was the best choice for keeping Shane from blowing up but the rest of them needed to hear the truth. Merle hadn’t been around for most of it so Rick let him go.

“You saved Carl.” Rick continued, looking at Hershel. “And you let us stay here. But you thought the walkers were just sick people. Your wife and your son were turned and you were hoping they could be cured someday. So you kept them and a bunch of other walkers in the barn and fed them. We found out and Shane set fire to the barn, burned it down. You started drinking again, ran off to a bar in town to get loaded and we had to go after you. While we were there we met the group Daryl and I met last night. One of them got injured and we brought him back here.” He looked to Daryl. “Randall, the younger one. The one that wanted Beth.” Daryl gave him a grim nod of acknowledgement.

“So why did you kill him, if you knew him then?” Amy asked. Rick was surprised the younger blond didn’t seem scared or shocked by any of this, more like she was listening to a very interesting audiobook. He hoped that wasn’t a sign of her impending madness.

“We didn’t know him.” He explained. “We found out how big his group was, how violent.”

“How big?” Amy asked.

“Bigger than ours.” Rick told her.

“Twenty-two.” Daryl’s gruff voice cut through the room. He was staring daggers at Rick, chewing on the side of his thumb the way he did when he was nervous. Or pissed. Rick was willing to bet he was both at the moment.

“Maybe more.” Rick agreed.

“Wait, twenty-two?” Hershel repeated. “Are you telling me you killed twenty-two men in cold blood that night?”

Rick nodded and refused to break the old man’s gaze. “What Beth told you is true. All those things that I’ve done, all the terrible things, I did to make sure our family survived. And I would do them again if I had to. But I’m trying to make it different this time. I’m trying to make it better.”

“How is killing twenty-two men making things better?” Demanded Hershel. Rick could feel every eye in the room judging him, fearing him. But he had to make them see.

“Because last time they destroyed this place.” Carol told the old vet. “And they would have again. Daryl?”

Daryl glared at her but she was as unphased by it as ever. “Said they wanted inside the fence. Wanted the supplies.” He admitted. “The women. Heard ‘em talkin’ bout how they’d raped some chicks before, killed a bunch 'a people. Enjoyed it. Said they were gonna do it to y’all, too.” Hershel and a few others had heard the account the night they’d returned with Rick wounded but Rick could see by their faces that most of the group hadn’t known that detail. Lori was crying again, Amy and Andrea clasping each others’ hands white-knuckled.

“Randall,” Rick explained, “he went to school with Maggie and last time when we brough him back here he tried to convince us to take him away from that group. But we couldn’t trust him not to bring them down on our heads. We kept him prisoner and tried to decide what to do with him. Shane wanted to kill him, the rest of us,” he shook his head, “the rest of us were too stupid and stuck in the old way of the world to see sense.”

“So you would have?” Amy asked. “I mean, you’re saying this was all at the start before. So the you ten years from now would have killed him flat out?”

“If we couldn’t figure a way to keep him here safely until we were more sure he could be trusted?” Rick shrugged. “Yeah.” Amy sat back, a pensive little twist to her mouth.

“That’s insane!” Andrea balked but Amy squeezed her sister’s hand.

“Just listen, And.” She said softly.

Rick told them everything about the way it had gone last time, Daryl torturing Randall for information, Dale’s death, Lori telling Rick to kill Shane because he was too much of a wild card, Shane killing Randall and taking Rick out into the fields to kill him, too. The room was dead silent as he described killing Shane, how the man had come back and the herd had flooded in. He was crying, he could feel it in a distant sort of way. Cool air against his wet cheeks. But he just kept going. He looked to Andrea as he told her how they’d lost her.

“Daryl found us all out on the back roads.” Glenn said. “He led us to the meeting point on the highway where we’d left a note for Sophia. He got us all there.” Glenn smiled at Daryl but the hunter just stared stonily back. Rick wondered if he believed a damn word of this.

Rick took over again, telling them about the harsh winter where they’d learned to survive on the road. The whole room gasped again as he revealed Lori’s pregnancy and the desperate need to find somewhere to pause so she could have the baby.

“We were out hunting,” he smiled at Daryl, “and we found a prison. It was overrun but there were fences, walls. And I knew we could do it. We could take it.” He told them how they’d managed it, how Hershel had lost his leg and about the little group of survivors they’d found inside. He barely remembered the names of the two that had caused so much trouble. When it came time to tell them about T-Dog Carol took over.

“I was still weak, then.” She said softly. “Still half-useless. T-Dog and I got separated from the others and he got bit. It was on the shoulder and you knew you couldn’t do anything about it.” She stood, moving to place a hand on his shoulder and Rick could tell by the way she stared at it that was where he’d been bitten. T-Dog stared up at her, his face blank. “So you got me to a closet and you blocked it with your body. You saved my life and died doing it.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” She murmured. T-Dog didn’t react, didn’t say anything. His eyes were glazed, his mouth hanging slack as his limbs began to shake.

“Jesus.” He mumbled. “Oh please, Jesus.”

“Grab him!” Maggie shouted and Rick and Glenn lunged forward to wrestle the big man to the ground. He thrashed on the carpet but they held him down. T-Dog slung a good knee to Glenn’s gut but the younger man just grunted and held on. Rick managed to dodge the wild slap T-Dog threw his way and pin his arm back down.

“Jesus, please Jesus!” T-Dogg cried. “Oh holy Mary, Mother of God! Protect me! Protect me!” he screamed.

Carol knelt by his head, leaning close to whisper to him. “Theodore.” She cooed. “Theodore you saved me. You saved my life. I love you for it. You saved my life and you’re back with us now. We’ll protect you. You’re okay. You’re okay.” She repeated it over and over as he struggled and kicked. Rick could vaguely hear the others panicking, Carl and Morgan keeping them in check. It was a long, tense time before T-Dog subsided, weeping messily into the carpet. Rick eased up and Glenn followed suit, but they didn’t back off entirely. Rick looked up to see Hershel staring wide-eyed at T-Dog, at the mess the man had fallen to in the blink of an eye. Carol stroked T-Dog’s forehead, smiled down at him until he could look back at her.

“I-“ he gasped. “I died!” She nodded and kissed his cheek again.

“Yeah. You did.” She said.

“Rick?” T-Dog stared up at Rick like he was the second coming.

“T-Dog?” he asked and the big man nodded. “You okay?”

“Uhh…” he gave a wild little laugh and shook his head. “No. No, ‘okay’ is not really what I’d call this.” He said.

“You in control?” Morgan asked, eyes slitted as he studied him.

T-Dog chewed his lips but nodded. “I… I think so.” He said and Rick helped him stand. “I mean, I might throw up.” T-Dog admitted and Glenn laughed and pulled him into a hug.

“That’s fine by me. Just don’t go shooting anyone, okay?” he said and T-Dog hugged him back.

“Nah, nah I’m… I think I’m okay.”

“Are you saying you remember this all now?” Hershel narrowed his eyes at T-Dog and the big man gave a shakey nod.

“It was just like they said.” He looked at Maggie and Glenn. “It was like there were two of me both smashed together. And one of ‘em was screamin’ and dyin’. I could feel ‘em rippin’ me up. There were hands inside me, in my guts.” He shuddered and pressed his palms over his stomach. “If that’s what your guy felt…” he shook his head and looked out the window. “Well I ain’t surprised, I guess.” As he fell back onto the sofa, still shaking like a leaf, he looked up at Rick, Glenn and Carol. “D’you make it?” he asked. “You got the guys?”

“We did.” Rick nodded and T-Dog smiled.

“Good.” He sighed. Then his eyes snapped open and he stared at Lori. “Lori?” He asked and Rick could hear the sick fear in his voice. “The baby?”

“The baby made it.” Carl told him solemnly. “Mom didn’t.” Lori gasped and Rick didn’t need to look at her to know she was crying.

Carl took over the story for a little while, telling them about the tombs, putting his mother down while Maggie held the baby. Rick going crazy after Carl told him about Lori and Daryl’s determination that the baby wouldn’t starve. He told them about Michonne, about Andrea coming from Woodbury and her relationship with the Governor.

“I told you to end it.” Carol sighed, taking up Andrea’s hand again and perching on the arm of the sofa. “I told you to kill him but you didn’t. You stayed with him and eventually he came for the prison. He killed Hershel. He killed you, too.” She shook her head and Andrea made a quiet choking noise.

“We had to scatter.” Rick said. He told them about the signs for Terminus and how they’d each headed there in hopes the others had seen. Glenn told them about meeting Tara and Abraham, his desperate need to get back to Maggie. She explained all that had happened at Terminus, the cannibals and the train cars.

“Carol got us out.” Maggie smiled her brightest smile at the woman and Carol smiled back. “She brought them down in flames and we fought our way out. Rick wanted to go back, kill the survivors because monsters like that would always be dangerous but we talked him out of it.” She sighed. “We were wrong.”

“We met up with a priest, father Gabriel.” Rick said. He took them through the disaster at the church, Eugene’s near-forgotten fake plan. Beth told them about Grady, the terrible conditions there and the friend she'd found in Noah. Rick's rescue mission, her ill-fated attack with her scissors. Maggie cried and held her sister while Glenn picked back up with Gareth and Bob, taking out the last of the Terminus monsters. Then Rick took them up to DC with Abraham. Aaron. Finding Alexandria and making it home. He told Morgan how they met again, how Morgan had come back to himself. The hoard in the pit, the Wolves.

“They wanted what we had and they enjoyed killing us to take it.” He said. “But we beat them back. We took back the town and we made sure no one ever got through again.”

“Until they did.” Carol said softly.

Gunfire. Blood. Walkers everywhere. They were dying, they were all dying. A thin man with wild, dark hair perched on the wall and laughing down at him. Rick lay baking in the sun and waiting for death. Then Daryl. Daryl’s face above him, Daryl’s hand on his cheek and their heads pressed together.

Rick closed his eyes. Outside the sun was riding low across the horizon. It had taken all afternoon to tell their story. His throat was sore and raw and his leg ached like Hades but he knew they’d only just started. Telling the story was one thing, getting them to believe it was another.

“So why are you back here, then?” Amy spoke up finally. Rick looked at her and she tilted her head. “I mean, if you all survived, how did you come back to this point in time?”

“We didn’t survive.” Carl told her. “We made it longer than a lot of you, but we all died, in the end.”

The room was deathly quiet and Rick heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know how to explain it, cause I don’t know why it happened. One minute I was lying there, dying from a dozen bites and listening to the walkers and the flies take everyone else’s bodies. Then I woke up in that hospital again.” He spread his hands.

“He came to get me.” Morgan said. “Came to try and make it go different from last time. Tol’ me everything and I believed him.” He looked around at their shell-shocked faces. “Y’all should, too.”

Unsurprisingly, it was Andrea that spoke up first. “Rick… I don’t know how you are doing this, how you got T-Dog and Glenn and Maggie on your side, but what you did to Otis? What you did out there in the woods? That’s not protecting us. That’s murder.”

Rick shook his head. “Sometimes they’re the same thing.” He told her. 

"Like hell they are!” She shouted.

“Volume.” Carl warned. “We’re inside the fence but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

“Why do some people remember and not others?” Amy asked and Andrea rounded on her sister.

“You can’t tell me you believe this crap, Amy?” she gaped and Amy shrugged.

“How else do you explain it, And?” she asked. “He’s a cop, not, like, an Avenger or something. If he really killed twenty-two men out there and only got one shot through the calf it has to be because he’s had years of practice, right? A normal cop can’t just storm a camp and walk away fine. I mean, unless he’s Denzel Washington or something.”

“Twenty-one.” Rick corrected. “Daryl got one that was aiming for my head.” He didn’t think the hunter would appreciate the thanks just now but it deserved to be said that Daryl was still looking out for him, even if he didn’t know Rick from any random Joe anymore.

“Twenty-one.” Amy nodded. “How is it he knows Beth and Hershel and Maggie but his wife and best friend don’t? How is it his twelve-year-old son is a better fighter than his partner? How is it that he somehow knows all there is to know about fighting walkers when he started this whole thing in a coma?” Andrea opened and closed her mouth a few times, clearly having no answer for her sister. “And how is it he just happened to hear your distress call and get you out of Atlanta and back to me in one piece without firing a single shot?”

Amy stood, dusting off her jeans and walking over to Rick. “Rick, I don’t know if you’re crazy. Even if I believe you it sounds like crazy is kind of the new black these days.” She quirked a little smile and took his hands in hers. “But I, for one, am very happy to not have been raped by multiple violent men, so thanks for that.” Behind her, Beth actually laughed. “Besides…” she looked down at their joined hands, running her pale thumbs over his knuckles. “I… I died back there in the quarry. I thought… I thought I was just having a panic attack or something. But they were coming after me and I climbed up on the table and all I could think was ‘this is it, this is how it happened’. That’s because it did happen like that, didn’t it?” she looked up at him, a tear falling down her cheek.

Rick sighed. “Yeah.” He told her. “It did. But not this time. We got you, this time.”

She grinned. “Yeah.” She agreed and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for that, too.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“This is insane.” Lori breathed and got a chorus of nods in return.

“He warned you it was.” Carl told her and she glared at her son. He just looked calmly back.

“It’s a lot to take in.” Maggie spoke up. “And y’all are gonna need time to process it. But the real point is we are gonna stick together, protect each other. We’re family and Rick is our leader and that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

“Why Rick?” Andrea demanded and T-Dog shrugged.

“’S the only way things worked.”

“It’s the only way things ever worked.” Carol agreed. She cast Rick an ironic little smile. “For better or worse, Rick is in charge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any weird formatting. Posting from my phone because I'm travelling and MAN does this site not like mobile!


	13. We Come Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still posting from mobile so mind the formatting!!

Rick limped out onto the porch, the cool night air catching in his wasted throat. Merle was leaning his elbows on the rail, his right hand poised as if holding a phantom cigarette. His eyes were trained on Shane, pacing through the twilight along the fence like a man possessed. 

“He remember?” Rick asked and Merle shook his head. 

“Not s’far as I can tell.” He said. “Jus’ pissed off at what he heard ‘bout himself, I’m guessin’.” 

Rick nodded. He could believe it. “He isn’t that man yet.” He said and Merle snorted. 

“Ain’t gotta convince me to give a guy a second chance.” He said and Rick chuckled. 

“Guess not.” He agreed. “Why don’t you go keep an eye on the others? We’re gonna need to watch them all close the next few days in case we triggered something.”

“Heard some shoutin’.” Merle glanced over his shoulder at the screen door and Rick nodded. 

“T-Dog remembered.” He explained and Merle blanched. 

“He…?” he placed his fingers to his temple like shooting a gun and Rick shook his head. 

“Went a bit wild. But we got him back.” He rubbed at his aching forearms where T-Dog had clawed at him. “Eventually.” 

Merle blew out a sigh. “Thank Christ for that.” 

Rick nodded. It hadn’t escaped his notice the last few weeks that without Merle’s racist taunts and T-Dog’s defensive silence the pair of them had actually become pretty good friends. He had no doubt it would have torn Merle up if T-Dog hadn’t come through remembering. He patted Merle’s shoulder and looked back to Shane. “G’on. He and I gotta have a talk.”

“Good luck, Friendly!” Merle said cheerfully. He cupped his hand to his mouth to call almost-too-loud, “Hey, Lawdog! Don’t make me come back out here, y’hear?” 

Shane’s head snapped up and he shot Merle a poisonous glare but Merle just chuckled and headed inside. Rick stood, hands in his pockets as Shane stared at him. His eyes were wide and haunted and Rick fought back the wave of guilt that threatened to swarm him. Shane was his brother. They would always be brothers. 

“You  _ killed  _ me?” Shane demanded and Rick hung his head. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. Shane stalked up to the porch and Rick braced himself for the swing he knew was coming. But instead Shane just gripped the fabric of Rick’s shirt in both hands and gave him a shake. 

“What the  _ fuck _ , Rick?” he hissed. “What the fuck?” 

Rick fought the urge to throw his friend off. There was a clawing, howling creature in him that refused to be trapped like this. But he beat it down and looked Shane in the face. 

“You pulled a gun on me. You left me no choice. I stabbed you and watched you bleed out on my hand.” He knew it was a half truth. By that point he’d wanted Shane gone. His brother had been lost to him, a danger to everyone in the group. He said as much, quiet and still as Shane puffed in his face. 

Shane snarled and shoved Rick back, spinning away and marching off the porch again. He stood breathing hard, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides and Rick just watched. “You said we’re brothers.” Shane growled after a while. “You killed your own brother?” 

“I did.” 

“An’ I… I killed that man?” Shane was staring over at the side of the barn where Maggie and Glenn had placed Otis and Patricia to await burial. 

“You left him to die.” Rick said and Shane growled. 

“Same thing.” 

“As good as.” Rick agreed. 

“I was gonna kill you?” Shane asked but Rick didn’t answer. He knew there was no answer to make it untrue. “I was gonna… I was gonna shoot you and take Lori and Carl for myself. They’d ‘a never known it wasn’t him. No one would ‘a blamed me. You were fuckin’ everything up, Rick! Randall. He was gonna… I was… I was…” he shoved his hands in his hair, wrenching at it and screaming as blood bloomed at his hairline. 

Rick tackled him. 

They flailed in the grass, Rick using every ounce of his police training and ten years of fighting savage men ready to kill him to pin the larger man down. He ignored the wild blows Shane rained down on his back and threw his head up, hearing the familiar crunch of bone as his forehead met the bridge of Shane’s nose. Shane didn’t even seem to notice so Rick did it again. He got his knee into Shane’s belly, one leg out wide so he could come down harder. He threw his forearm across Shane’s throat and used his collar as a grip so when he pressed down with his elbow he was choking off the bigger man’s air. He caught one of Shane’s wrists in his free hand and forced it to his side.

“You did this to us!” Shane wailed, “This was you, not me!” 

Rick wept as Shane parroted his words from so long ago back at him. He held on tighter. 

Shane kicked out, his free hand coming to wrap around Rick’s throat. He didn’t squeeze, just clawed like an animal. “Raise your gun!” he screamed. “Raise your gun, Rick!” 

There was shouting behind them and Rick felt blood trickle down his collar. People were streaming off the porch, surrounding them as they struggled. He ignored it all. 

“Shane.” He called. “Shane. It doesn’t have to be that way!” His tears hit Shane’s sweat-damp cheeks as he pleaded. “I was wrong! I didn’t see what it was doin’ to you. You were right about Randall. I didn’t know. I couldn’t see. Please, Shane! I was wrong!” 

“I loved you!” Shane howled. “I loved her!” 

“I know, Shane. I know!f” 

Shane’s eyes widened. He began to choke and Rick realized all the blood trapped from his broken nose was sliding down the back of his throat, drowning him. He jumped up, rolling Shane onto his front and putting his knee to the small of his back instead. He gathered Shane’s hands behind him and pinned them, one hand going to the back of Shane’s head like he was some perp Rick was arresting. 

“Rick?” Glenn was behind him, holding Shane’s legs down. 

“Just hold him, Glenn.” 

“Rick if he remembers…” 

“Hold him!” 

Shane sobbed like a child. “You did this to us!” he repeated and Rick nearly recoiled. “This was you! This was you! This was you…” He kept repeating it. For a minute, for an hour Rick didn’t know. He lost track. He just stared down at his friend and tried desperately to hold on to the hope that Shane would come back, the real Shane. 

“Kill me.”

It came, whisper soft, just as Rick was losing hope. 

“What?” he leaned down, sure he’d misheard. 

“Kill me.” Shane breathed it like a sigh and Rick felt his stomach freeze solid. “I ain’t… I did that. I did all of it.” 

Rick nodded, dumb. 

“So kill me. I can’t… I can’t come back to you after that. I can’t.” 

“You fucking  _ can!”  _ Rick hissed. He waved Glenn off, slowly releasing Shane’s hands but ready to grab them again the instant Shane made a wrong move. 

“Kill me.” Shane pleaded and Rick hadn’t thought there were any pieces of his heart left still big enough to break. Shane struggled to his knees, hanging his head like a penitent sinner. Rick knelt in front of him, thumbs coming up to press on either side of Shane’s nose. With a sharp push he put the broken pieces back into place and blood gushed out all over Shane’s shirt front. He coughed. “Y’can’t trust me with ‘em. Any of ‘em. I… I’m a killer, Rick.”

“We all are.” Rick told him. “And you’re still my brother.”

Shane laughed. “Kill me.” He insisted and Rick shook his head. 

“I can’t. Not again.” 

Shane licked the blood off his upper lip and finally raised his eyes to Rick’s. “Fine.” He lunged. His hands were around Rick’s throat before Rick could blink and  _ jesus, fuck _ Shane’s hands were enormous! Spots danced in front of Rick’s eyes and he felt his trachea crackling under the pressure. People were shouting again. No one had their weapons. He grabbed Shane’s wrists, trying to plead with his eyes but Shane was just staring at him and suddenly Rick understood. He’d seen it before. Dealt with it before. 

Suicide by cop. 

There was a sharp  _ thunk _ and suddenly Shane’s hands went slack. He toppled to the side and Rick was staring up at Maggie, her face hard and a loose spindle from the porch rail in her hand. Shane lay beside him, bloody and unconscious but still breathing.

Thank Christ. 

“Get him up.” Rick coughed, his voice a bruised rasp. He struggled to his feet, glad for the shoulder Glenn offered him. “Get him in the back bedroom and tie him tight.” 

“Rick-“

“Do it, Glenn!” 

They didn’t argue, Merle and T-Dog hauling Shane up and dragging his limp body into the house. 

“Rick!” Lori was clutching the porch railing but he just growled at her. 

“In the house.” He commanded. “Everyone. Beth, I want you with Andrea and Amy.” The little blond nodded and herded the sisters back inside. “Carol, Hershel and Anette. T-Dog will take Shawn and Lori and Merle will look after Daryl and Morgan. Carl you keep an eye on the kids.” Carl was glaring after Shane but he didn’t argue. “Maggie and Glenn, you and me are gonna take turns on watch for Shane.” 

“Rick, he just-“

“I know what he did!” Rick cut Maggie off. “We’re gonna take watch. If he’s gone, he’s gone. But things might go different. And if they can I gotta try.” 

Maggie pursed her lips but finally she nodded. “A’right.” She sighed. Glenn shook his head but followed his wife’s lead. “You have Daddy look at your throat, clean up them scratches. I’ll take first watch.” Glenn followed behind her as she headed back into the house and Rick knew the pair of them would trade off sleeping in each other’s laps until it was his turn to guard Shane. 

As they all settled back into the living room, no one seeming secure enough after the day’s chaos to retreat to their tents and bedrooms yet, Hershel pointed to a footstool and forced Rick to sit. He did, baring his abused throat to the old vet and wincing as the motion tweaked something in his neck. He nearly laughed as he realized the bullet wound in his calf was one of the least sore parts of his aching body. 

“He bruised you up, good.” Hershel declared after peering down Rick’s throat with a flashlight. “But there shouldn’t be any permanent damage.” Rick nodded his thanks and the old vet sat back in his chair, resting his hands on his knees. “He was trying to kill you.” Hershel said. 

“Nah.” Rick rasped. “He was tryin’ to die.” 

“Didn’t look that way from where I was sittin’.” T-Dogg scoffed and Rick shook his head. 

“He was forcin’ y’all to save me. He wanted to die for what he remembered doing.” 

Hershel scratched at his beard. “Seems to indicate a man with a guilty soul.” He said after a moment. 

“That’s what I’m hopin’.” Rick admitted. 

“Why’s that?” 

“A man who can still feel guilt is a man who can still be saved.” 

* * * * *

Rick took watch by Shane’s bed through the early hours of the morning, having dropped into an exhausted sleep not long after Hershel had finished cleaning the jagged scratches Shane and T-Dog had left on Rick’s skin. Shane didn’t stir all night and Rick wasn’t sure if he was scared or grateful. Maybe both. It was a few hours past dawn when Carl slipped into the room with a mug of hot tea and a few pieces of Anette’s fresh bread. 

“Anyone else?” Rick asked as he chewed and Carl shook his head. 

“Nothing yet.” He perched on the end of the bed, toying with the rope that held Shane’s foot bound to the frame. “Are you really going to try to keep him with us? Knowing everything he might do?” 

Rick sipped the tea and flinched as it burned his already sore throat. “I don’t know.” He admitted. 

“Safest bet is to kill him.” Carl said and Rick couldn’t tell if he wanted that or was just presenting Rick with the options. 

“Safest play ain’t always the right one.” Rick said and Carl scoffed. 

“But it usually is.”

Rick nodded but didn’t say anymore. He knew that if he had to, if it was Shane’s life weighed up against everyone else’s, he would kill him again. He could do it, no matter what he’d said to Shane. But he didn’t want to, not this time, not if he didn’t need to. 

“What about Judith?” Carl asked and Rick blinked back from where he’d been drifting. 

“What about her?”

“If he’s with us she won’t really be ours.”

“She can be.” 

“She looks like him.” Carl said and Rick flinched. He’d known it. There had been so much of Lori in her but they were Shane’s eyes in her little face. “And everyone is gonna know she’s his.” 

“Everyone already knew.” Rick pointed out. “And it didn’t matter.”

“Because he was dead.” Carl snapped. “He wasn’t there to try and take her from us. She never had to know that she was his.” 

“She doesn’t have to know, now.” 

Carl rolled his eyes and gave a disgusted huff. “Judy’s not stupid, Dad.” He said. “You don’t think she’s gonna figure it out? Have questions? Need to know why?” 

Rick had no answer for that. “She’s ours.” He said. 

“I know that. But he doesn’t.” With that Carl slipped back out into the hall and Rick had the distinct impression he’d wanted to slam the door behind him but was too disciplined to actually do it. 

Maggie came to relieve him sometime in the late morning and Rick gave her an exhausted nod as he limped out to the porch for some fresh air. Lori was sitting on the steps hugging her knees in her skinny arms, T-Dog and Shawn working not far away on a chair with a broken leg. Rick sat down beside her and she rested her temple on one knee, her hair spilling and a lovely wave over her shins as she looked at him. 

“Is he awake?” she asked and Rick shook his head. She sighed. “All that, last night,” she began.

“Yeah.” He nodded and she sighed again. 

“I… I die. In the basement of a prison?” she gave a shaky laugh. “Carl was a C-section. I knew this baby was going to be hard with no hospitals.”

“Hershel had a plan.” Rick said. “Carol was learning to help. But it all went to hell.” 

“Tell me about her.” Lori pleaded, closing her eyes. “Tell me about my daughter.” 

Rick smiled. He understood. “Judith.” He said softly. “Carl named her Judith.” 

Lori’s eyes popped open and she wrinkled her nose. “Judith?” she repeated and Rick actually laughed. 

“Judy. Jude, sometimes. Daryl calls her ‘Little Ass-Kicker’.” He thought of the hunter cradling his little daughter in his grimy arms, more gentle than Rick would have said was possible. “He loves her. Carl adores her. We all do. She’s perfect.” 

“Tell me about her.” Lori repeated and so Rick did. He told her about the first days, when Judith was hungry and lost without her mother or her father there to help her. He told her how Carol, Carl, Beth, and Daryl took care of her. He told her about the sunflowers Beth had asked him to plant along the prison fence that they gathered and used as a mobile, their wide, sunny faces as bright as Judith’s gummy smile. She loved the wild strawberries Daryl had brought back from one of his hunts for Rick to try and plant in his gardens and hated the peas Glenn had nearly lost a limb getting from that seed store outside Macon. She never complained about eating them, though. He told her how smart their little girl was, how when it counted she’d always known to be patient and still. He told her about Judith’s resilience, the strange way she had of looking at the world and everyone in it. She’d grown up in constant danger but secure in the knowledge that any one of her family would have laid down their lives in a heartbeat for her. 

“You’d have thought it would make her spoiled, bein’ treated like a little princess all the time. Hell, I don’t think her feet touched ground the first three years of her life.” He chuckled. “But she’s the opposite. She is so kind, so ready to love anyone who gives her the chance. She always throws in her fair share of the hard work, more when she can.” 

“How old is she?” Lori asked in a dreamy voice, lulled by Rick’s words. 

“Nine or so.” He said softly. “She has long brown hair, just like yours. Maggie and Carol are teaching her how to braid it. She’s growin’ like a weed just now, gonna be tall as Carl soon.”

“But she’s not.” Lori said, opening her eyes to look at him. “Cause in your time she’s gone. And in mine she’s not here yet.” 

Rick ducked his chin. “I’m gonna keep you alive.” He told her. How many times had he told her that since he’d come back? How many times had he promised her things he couldn’t possibly guarantee? “You’re gonna meet her.” He said anyway. “And you’re gonna love her. We all are.” 

Lori hummed and looked at the fence. “Carl…” 

“He grows up strong.” Rick told her. “And so smart. He’s a real survivor. And god, he loves his baby sister.” 

Lori flipped her hair off her face and shot him a rueful grin. “So I guess he learns how to shoot a gun, huh?” 

Rick laughed. “Yeah. Better shot than most.” 

“Rick.” She shook her head. “Is this all why you think we can’t be together? All this…” she waved her hands in a vague gesture, “this future?” 

“Yeah. I… I can’t be the man I was at the start of all this. I’ve done too much, suffered too much.” He looked into her liquid brown eyes. “Lost too much.” 

“But you have me again!” she gripped his wrist. “Rick, I’m here! If all that is true, if I was dead and you had to go on without me, wouldn’t you have done anything to get me back?” 

He covered her slim fingers with his own, squeezing gently. “No.” He admitted. 

Lori froze. “…No?” she breathed and Rick smiled sadly. 

“No, Lori. That’s the point. I  _ wouldn’t _ have done anything to get you back. I loved you, and I damn near lost my mind when you went. But the others needed me. Judith and Carl, Hershel and Maggie and Beth. Carol. Daryl. They needed me. They were every bit as much my family as you were. And if it had meant putting any one of them in danger to get you back? I wouldn’t have done it.” 

She swallowed and he’d made her cry all over again. But this time they weren’t tears of sorrow, or even fear. They were rage. “You… I am your  _ wife! _ ” she gritted through clenched teeth. 

“No.” He said calmly. “You’re not. Not anymore. I tried to tell you, Lori. I can’t be a husband when I am trying to keep everyone here alive.” 

She flicked her hair and released his wrist, crossing her arms over her stomach. “Glenn and Maggie? They’re supposed to me married, right? So how is that different?” 

“Glenn and Maggie came together in the middle of all of this.” Rick explained. “They understand what’s at stake. And they know, same as me, that if it comes down to it and they’d have to sacrifice each other to save everyone else they would.”

“And you don’t think I get that?” Lori huffed and Rick scoffed. 

“No, Lori. I don’t think you do. And I don’t think you ever will. It’s not how you’re built. It never was.” 

“You sanctimonious bastard!” she hissed. 

“Why do you even want to be with me anymore?” he asked, cutting off the tirade she was building to before it really got started. “Is it because of the baby? You know we’ll take care of her. ” 

Lori stared at him. “I want to be with you because I love you.” She said and Rick couldn’t help it. He laughed. 

“You don’t know me anymore, Lori.” He told her. “You barely did the first time through. We both know we were screwed up long before I got shot. You can’t love me if you don’t know me. And I can’t love you, not as your husband.”

“Is there someone else?” Lori demanded and Rick blinked at her.

“What?”

“In the future, is there someone else? Did you move on after I died?” He was surprised to hear her gentle tone. “It’s okay if you did.”

He shook his head.

“Come on, Rick. I understand. I left you with Carl and with… with Judith. You needed someone, right? You needed someone to fill the space I left behind.”

Rick had a flash of Daryl standing in the bird’s nest, hips bouncing as he rocked Judith back and forth, half-singing some old rock song Rick barely knew and smiling down at her like the sun. He shook his head again. 

“No, Lori.” He repeated. “It ain’t like that.” 

“Then why?” 

“I told you why.” 

“No you didn’t! You’re giving me some vague bullshit about why we can’t make it work and expecting me to just swallow it? I take my vows seriously, Rick. I promised you ‘’til death do us part’. Did those words mean nothing to you?” 

Rick closed his eyes. “Death parted us.” He said and that shut her up for a minute. “It happened, Lori. I stuck with you ’til the end last time and it nearly destroyed us all. I ain’t doin’ it again.” He didn’t bother to wait for her protests, her angry, bitter words that he knew were coming. Instead he stood and marched towards the barn, praying there was something inside that needed doing. 

Hershel and Anette had been talking about stripping those plants Maggie had brought back with Otis the night before, laying out the seeds to dry on some sort of rack thing. He remembered Hershel telling him about that same idea once at the prison, some contraption to make sure they harvested enough seeds every year to plant again the next but they’d never gotten around to it. By the time they’d been ready to try the Governor had been on them and gardening had taken a backseat again. 

As he approached he heard hushed whispers from inside the barn and paused. 

“You’re outta your damn mind!” Daryl hissed and Rick froze, trying to think of the last time he had heard the hunter that vicious. 

“No, little brother, “ Merle drawled. “For once in my life I am thinking bright and fuckin’ clear. We need to be here.” 

“We need to get the hell away from this bunch ‘a crazies as fast as our legs’ll take us!” Daryl insisted. Rick felt his blood run cold. He couldn’t lose Daryl. He  _ couldn’t _ . 

Inside the barn Merle chuckled. “Crazy they may be but I’m tellin’ ya, Rick and his people are good folks. We need to be here with ‘em.”

“Why?” Daryl demanded. 

“They’s your family.”

“Psht.” Rick could see in his mind’s eye Daryl flick his chin in dismissal. “Only damn family I got is you. How many times you tol’ me that since the old bastard died?” 

“Well, I was wrong!”

“Yer usin’ again, ain’t ya?” Daryl accused and Rick heard Merle’s snort. 

“Where the fuck you think I’m gonna find a stash ‘a crank out here in bum-fuck nowhere?” he demanded. 

“Old man’s a vet. He’s got drugs.” 

“I ain’t never touched K in my life and I ain’t about to start when there’s a damn apocalypse on the go. Be serious.” Merle actually sounded offended. 

“Well then you got hold ‘a somethin’ else.” Daryl insisted and Merle let out a low whistle. 

“Stop tryin’ ta find reasons ta leave.” He said.

“Why?”

“‘Cause they need you!” Merle shot back in a whispered shout. “I tried ta tell ya, back at the start. I tried ta tell ya what a good thing ya had goin’ with these people. I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it in my damn life! A Dixon not just tolerated, but fuckin’  _ loved. _ ” Rick bowed his head and tried to breathe easier. Merle was good to his word. He really was here for Daryl. “Ya was a real man with these people. They trusted you, listened when you talked. Yer tellin’ me you’s just gonna walk away? From them kids? From that Carol?” Daryl paused and Merle pushed his advantage. “You seriously tellin’ me you’d walk away from Rick?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I?” Daryl gritted and Rick felt a pit open in his gut. 

But Merle just chuckled. Rick could practically smell the smoke that had to be pouring out of Daryl’s ears at his brother’s easy laughter. “Baby brother, I ain’t touchin’ that question with a ten-foot stripper pole!” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Daryl bitched, echoing Rick’s thoughts exactly. 

“S’fer you ta figure out.” Merle laughed and Daryl bit down a growl. “We’re stayin’. Less you wanna go out there on yer own.” Rick gulped down a strangled gasp. Daryl  _ couldn’t  _ leave. Not now. Not when he didn’t even know… “But if’n ya do, word of advice: don’t let Friendly get wise to it or you’s gonna be tied to a chair right next to the Lawdog quicker’n y’can blink.” 

“He ain’t gonna stop me.” Daryl said without conviction. 

Merle snorted. “If ya think ya seen crazy, let me tell ya somethin’: ya ain’t seen Rick Grimes tryin’ ta protect his own.” 

But that wasn’t true. Daryl had seen it. He’d watched Rick drenching himself in blood and spraying bullets like raindrops to protect his family. He’d watched him slice through twenty-one men, burn them down like kindling and not even blink. If Rick had seen Daryl do the same, back at the start, wouldn’t he have taken Carl and Lori and run? 

The barn door slid open and Daryl barged out, red-faced and sweating the way only Merle could wind him up to. He stopped dead and Rick flushed guiltily, caught. 

“Daryl,” he tried but the hunter brushed past him, leaving Rick feeling sick to his stomach. 

“You hear all that, Friendly?” Merle asked, coming to lean on the barn siding where it was warmed in the sun. 

“A lot of it.” Rick admitted, watching Daryl’ back as he stalked towards the fence. He wanted to go drag him back by the hair, do exactly what Merle had warned him about and tie him up next to Shane until he was sure he wouldn’t leave. But that sort of thing never worked with Daryl. He was the type to chew his own foot off before giving in to a cage and they all knew it. 

“He’ll be back.” Merle assured him as Daryl slipped out of the gate. Shawn watched him go, pulling the gate closed with a bewildered look. “Jus’ needs some time ta cool his heels and figure shit out.” 

“How long will that take?” Rick asked and Merle shook his head. 

“Dunno. Tol’ ya we Dixons ain’t used ta bein’ thought of as much other than trash. It’s gonna take him a while ta get his head ‘round it.” 

“It did last time, too.” Rick hummed thoughtfully. “But he got there.” 

“So he’ll get there again. Jus’ don’t go all mother hen on ‘im and drive him nuts in the meantime.” 

Rick nearly chuckled. ‘Mother hen’ wasn’t really a phrase he’d have associated with himself. Homicidal chickenhawk, maybe. 

“Dad!” Carl’s hushed call broke Rick’s train of thought. He turned to see his son running across the grass. “He’s awake.” He puffed.

Rick straightened. “Fuck.” He said. And Carl nodded at the sentiment. They ran back towards the house, Rick’s hand going to his python to pull it from the holster. 

He handed it to Merle and barked, “Stay out here.” He was only wearing two knives and they both got shoved into Merle’s waiting hands, too. He wasn’t going anywhere near Shane, bound or not, with a weapon on him. Merle nodded grimly and Rick and Carl slipped into Shane’s room. 

Hershel stood beside him, checking his pupils with his little flashlight. Rick tensed at the glazed stare Shane was casting up at the old vet but then Shane blinked and focused on him. 

“Rick?” his voice crackled like dusty leaves. 

“Shane?” 

“The fuck am I doin’ in here?” he asked and Rick slumped into the chair by his head. Across from him Hershel tucked his penlight away. 

“There’s no neurological deficits, so far as I can see.” He told Rick. “He seems to be in full possession of his faculties. ‘Course, I’m no psychiatrist. Most of my patients didn’t talk.” He gave a rueful smile and sat down on the old wooden chest against the wall. Carl perched on the end of the bed again, his fist tightening around the rope. 

“Why am I here?” Shane repeated. 

“You were choking me.” Rick told him and Shane’s eyes narrowed. 

“And they didn’t take me out?”

“Maggie got you with a stick.” Carl told him matter-of-factly. Shane tilted his chin down awkwardly to look at the boy. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Carl said. “I’d have killed you.” 

Rick closed his eyes. He understood Carl’s feelings, the worry for his sister and the rest of the family, but that kind of talk was not going to help Shane see reason. 

“Should have.” Shane whispered, trying to hide his face in his shoulder but tied too tightly to do more than stare at the wall beside Hershel. 

“Shane, please,” Rick sighed. 

“I loved her.” Shane murmured. “I loved her and I thought I was… I thought I was doin’ the right thing. I left you there. I left you in that damn bed and I ran with her and with Carl and I kept ‘em safe. An’ I fuckin’  _ died _ inside leavin’ you behind.”

“I know.” Rick told him but it was like Shane hadn’t even heard him. 

“An’ then we were safe, as safe as we were gonna be. Carl looked at me like a hero and Lori, Lori looked at me. I been waitin’ for her to look at me since we were s _ eventeen _ .” Rick hung his head. “An’ then… an’ then you were there.” Shane turned his head and caught Rick’s eyes with his own. They were glowing with pain and Rick grabbed his hand where it was tied to the bedpost. “And - Jesus wept - I was so goddamn happy to have you back.”

“I know.” Rick nodded. “An’ I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see what it was doin’ to you. Lori. She was angry and it wasn’t your fault.”

“She  _ hated _ me.” Shane hissed. “I did my best, I did everything I could, and it wasn’t enough. It was the wrong fuckin’ thing!” 

“It wasn’t.” Rick insisted. “God, Shane, it was everything! You kept them alive! You kept me alive!” 

“An’ then you rode in like the fuckin’ saviour of Atlanta and I… I couldn’t stop fuckin’ up. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop!”

Rick hushed him, leaning forward to press his lips to Shane’s scabbed hairline. “Shane. Shane, please.”

“You were fuckin’ everything up!” Shane hissed and Rick reeled back. “You wouldn’t  _ listen _ !” 

“I couldn’t.” Rick admitted. “I can now.” 

“Too fuckin’ late!” Shane laughed. “Too late ‘cause now I’m a murderer and a fuckin’ coward and a Judas an’… an’…” he dissolved into choking tears. “Rick. Rick, please. If y’ever were my brother, jus’ end it here. Gimme a gun and I’ll do it myself.”

“Like we’d give you a gun.” Carl snorted and Rick shot him a glare. Carl didn’t back down. 

“We’re all murderers, Shane. Every damn one of us.” 

“But I tried to kill  _ you! _ ” Shane choked. “My… my best friend. I was… I was outta my mind!”

“We’ve all been there, too.” Rick smiled humourlessly. “But we come back, Shane. We come back from it.” 

There was a long moment of silence where all Rick could hear was Shane’s harsh gasps and Carl’s fingers twisting on the rope. “How?” Shane asked finally and Rick felt something in his chest loosen. 

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “But there’s got to be a way.” 

“’I have swept away your offences like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you.’” Hershel intoned, drawing everyone’s eyes. 

“What’s that?” Carl asked and Hershel looked at Shane. 

“Isaiah 44:22.” He said. “I find the bible a comfort in times like these.” 

“What the hell do I do to redeem  _ this?”  _ Shane scoffed, his eyes slipping closed in despair. 

Rick hung his head. “I dunno.” He whispered. 

Carl glared at the two of them. Then, without a word, he jumped up and walked out. This time he did slam the door behind him.


	14. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am back home and can upload properly now! I’ll be heading back over the last chapters to try and correct a few mistakes but editing is not my favourite activity so I may get bored and give up.  
> One of you lovely readers mentioned that this story is unpredictable and I am here to tell you that’s because I write on fly. I have only the barest framework in mind for the story itself and that often gets trashed entirely depending on what I come up with chapter to chapter. While this definitely can make the story more unpredictable it also leads to a lot of me staring at a wall going “…and then what?” or “and why in the HELL would he do that???” and occasionally “oh Jesus, Rick, work with me here, buddy. That’s a bad decision but I guess if that’s what you want to do…” I wrote about four different versions of this chapter, all wildly different, before settling on this one. I hope it makes sense!  
> It ended up being much longer than I anticipated, just over 7k words. I’ve been really enjoying all the feedback on this fic but for this chapter in particular I would really like to know what you guys think about everyone’s actions and reactions.  
> Thank you once again to everyone reading along, leaving kudos, and commenting. Your feedback means so much. Enjoy!

Rick sat on the porch, listening to the rasp of crickets out in the hay fields and trying his best to stop the swirl of too many thoughts from gumming up his brain. Through everything else, Lori and Judith and Carl’s anger and Hershel’s mistrust, food and invaders and a herd eventually heading this way, he kept coming back to one thing. Shane. What in the hell was he supposed to do about Shane? His brother was in there still, tied to his bed and begging for death every chance he got. It had been two days. Two days of forcing water down his throat and watching him stare at the ceiling like a damned…

Rick huffed as the word crossed his mind.

Everyone else was walking on eggshells, too, waiting for memory to hit them like a freight train. It had already taken Anette, dropping her like a stone in the kitchen in the middle of breakfast yesterday. She’d wailed about the burning fever, the ache in her bitten limbs. Hershel and Carol had knelt with her, keeping her from clawing at herself while she came through it. But afterwards she’d shut herself up in her bedroom and refused to come out. Beth was with her, keeping an eye on her and hopefully talking her out of doing anything rash. The irony of that wasn’t lost on Rick.

Next had been Sophia. She woke screaming in the middle of the night. Carol had rocked her and rocked her until she calmed down, kissed her face and kept her close. Carl had spent most of the morning sitting with his shaken friend, telling her all about their family, the ones she hadn’t met yet, how strong and fierce Carol had become. He told her that she would be just like that, would learn to be smart and tough. He promised he would show her how.

T-Dog and Merle had started doing perimeter sweeps, combing the woods for any stragglers from Randall’s group and scouting good positions to lay traps for the herd that had blown through last time. Rick had told them about the herd they’d led away from Alexandria back at the start there and Merle had jumped on the idea.

“Used ta do the same fer feral hogs!” he’d said. “Ya make a race, like a big funnel outta plastic sheeitn’ an’ steel fencin’ an’ runner boards. Then ya buzz ‘em with trucks, bang some pots an’ pans an’ shit and they run right down inta yer pens, neat as a pin!”

“The hell were you doin’ trappin’ feral hogs?” T-Dog had demanded.

Merle had grinned. “They’s got a bounty on ‘em. They’s a pest, rootin’ up the forest and shit. Was a good way to make a dickload ‘a cash for a day or two’s work. Plus, it’s fun as hell, so long as you don’t get your legs broke by an angry sow. An’ if ya do get your legs broke you get the good drugs fer a spell so’s worth it either way.”

“You think we can set up a walker funnel?” T-Dog had asked.

Merle had clapped him on the back. “Why not?” he’d challenged. “Course it’d have ta be sturdier than plastic sheets. Hogs is real smart, ain’t gonna just run inta stuff like dumb-ass geeks is, not til ya get ta squeezin’ em in tight.”

“An’ geeks won’t run _away_ from noise, they’ll go towards it.” T-Dog had chipped in. The two of them had spent nearly all day out in the woods trying to get a feel for the topography. Rick had left them to it, please that at least one problem was sort of in hand.

A soft whistle drifted through the night and Rick looked up to see Maggie’s silhouette atop the fence. She, Shawn, Amy and Glenn had spent the morning making watch platforms at the four cardinal points of the fence line. Until now they’d been posting a lookout on the roof of the house but that wouldn’t do them much good when it came to actually defending the place, or negotiating with someone outside. Rick had been impressed with how fast the platforms had gone up and how quickly Shawn had made a rope ladder for each.

“I was a boyscout.” He’d told Rick with a self-depricating smile. “Earning my badges now, I tell ya.”

A whistle came back from the next platform where Amy stood, all clear.

Rick dropped his head into his hands, crushing the heels of his palms against his eyes and trying to think. There had to be a way. There had to be something, some way to reach Shane. He’d gone over it a hundred times since Shane remembered and he still had nothing. Rick could at least be glad that he was still with it enough for the feeling of someone coming up behind him was enough to pull him from his swirling thoughts, he supposed.

“Rick? Can I talk to you?” Glenn’s voice was a balm, no longer the nervous, too-fast chatter of a few days ago. He sounded like himself again.

“Yeah.” Rick hauled himself up, brushing off the seat of his jeans and turning. Glenn stood with his hands loose at his sides, not fidgeting restlessly anymore. Two knives hung on his belt and a shoulder holster they’d picked from Randall’s camp held a pistol. His gaze was focused, mouth serious. Rick couldn’t help the smile unfolding across his face as he took in Glenn’s posture and expression. “Man, I’ve missed you.” He said.

Glenn blinked, then smiled that peculiar soft smile of his. “Yeah. I bet. It’s weird to see your beard all brown.” He teased. “I’m used to the whole Grizzly Adams look.”

“Yeah, fuck you.” Rick chuckled and he caught Glenn’s grin through the dark.

Glenn whistled and Maggie’s head turned towards them. She cast a final glance out over the fields before shimmying down the rope ladder and coming to join them on the porch.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“We’ve got a problem.” Glenn’s smile slipped away.

Rick snorted. “Which one?”

Glenn flicked his eyebrows in agreement. “We can’t stay here.” He said. “Too many people saw Hershel buying supplies. They’re going to remember and they’re going to come check it out. Beth did alright trying to prep this place but there’s still a lot of problems. That fence will keep a handful of walkers out but it’s not going to be worth shit if anyone with real artillery comes through here. Hell, a few guys who were into rock climbing back before could get over it no problem. Not to mention it’s flammable.” Rick nodded. He knew all that already.

“Now that you, Maggie, and T-Dog remember I think we might have enough to take the prison with Merle, me, Carol and Beth. That’s where Michonne, Tara, Sasha, and Tyrese will go to find us if they remember. And if not that’s the best place to look for them from. We can get into Woodbury early and deal with the Governor. But until we figure out Shane…” he shrugged.

“What are we going to do about him?” Maggie asked and Rick hung his head.

“Damned if I know.” He admitted. “These last few weeks… having him back…” he buried a hand in his hair, scraping at his scalp like it might make his brain work faster.

“Do you think we can trust him?” The way Glenn’s forehead scrunched up said clear enough that he didn’t.

“I don’t know.” Rick admitted.

“That’s because you’re too close to this.” Maggie told him. “Maybe it shouldn’t be up to you.”

Rick cocked his head at her. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone who remembers knows what he was like at the end. And if we’re all goin’ to be riskin’ our lives alongside him we should all have a say in whether or not we’re willin’ ta do it. It’s always been that way, takin’ in new people. And he ain’t an unknown.”

“Like the council?” Rick suggested, remembering the way they’d done things at the prison.

“Like that.” Maggie nodded. “Y’know ya can’t rely on your gut for this one, Rick. He’s too important to ya. That’s what got ya into such a mess in the first place.”

Rick chewed his cheek. “I ain’t comin’ up with anything on my own.” He admitted at last.

“So we’ll get everyone together. And everyone who remembers what he did gets a vote.” Maggie said, nodding to herself.

“And everyone who doesn’t?” Glenn asked. “They only know him as part of the group. There’s no telling who will remember or when. What is it going to look like if we just start kicking people out?”

“Will we kick him out?” Maggie asked. “If we decide he’s too dangerous to keep with us, doesn’t that mean he’s too dangerous to keep alive?”

“One step at a time.” Glenn said. “Besides, sounds like if we send him away he might not make it that long anyway.” He cast an apologetic glance at Rick and Rick shook his head. If they turned him loose he had no doubt Shane would be dead within the hour.

“Alright.” Glenn said, looking to Maggie. “We’ll get everyone together in the living room first thing in the morning. And once we deal with Shane we can work on talking your father into moving us all to the prison.”

“Right.” Maggie slipped her hand around Glenn’s waist and kissed his cheek. “I’m off watch in an hour or so.” She told him. “And we should probably try and convince Daddy to move everyone into the main house tomorrow. So if you wanted to take advantage of having a private bedroom tonight would be the night.”

Rick watched the goofy smile that spread over Glenn’s face. “Uh…” Glenn said eloquently.

Rick chuckled. “Keep the noise down, you two.” He warned. “We got kids around, remember.”

“Yessir.” Maggie tossed him a wink and slipped her hand into Glenn’s back pocket for a grope. He squeaked and Rick laughed. God, he’d missed Maggie, too.

“I’ll take the rest of your watch.” He offered. “T-Dog should get a bit more rest after the day he and Merle had.”

“And isn’t that just the weirdest friendship ever?” Glenn scoffed and Maggie chuckled.

“Are we gonna have a problem with Merle?” Rick asked the pair of them, remembering how vehemently Glenn had objected to the older Dixon joining them at the prison.

“He seems like he’s changed.” Glenn shrugged. “Those first weeks at the quarry he really stepped up. And we saw what it did to Daryl to lose him. We can’t do that to him.”

“It’s so weird that Daryl doesn’t remember.” Maggie shook her head. “I’d ‘a thought if anyone would…” she cast her eyes out past the barn, to the tent where Daryl stubbornly insisted on keeping himself separate from the rest of them.

Rick’s throat tightened as the traitorous thought that had been bubbling up in the back of his mind the past two nights pushed itself to the front again. _Only the ones that died remember._ Daryl had been left, at the end, alone. Maybe he wouldn’t remember at all if he hadn’t died with them in the killing field Alexandria had become. Maybe they had lost him, or at least the version of him they knew.

“I get what you meant, Rick.” Glenn said softly. “I miss him.”

“Yeah.” Rick croaked. He scrubbed a hand over his beard and forced a smile onto his face. “You two get. I’ll get up and test out this watch platform.”

“Don’t stay out too late.” Maggie grinned and Rick leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I’m glad to have you back.”

“Glad to be back.” She agreed. “Like, _really_ glad. Given the alternative.”

He snorted and shooed them into the house. He ducked in behind them to grab one of the AKs they’d looted from Randall’s camp and headed up to the platform. He hadn’t realized how his eyesight had changed over the years, but he found he didn’t have to squint into the darkness like he would have before the attack on Alexandria. He chuckled softly to himself as he thought that if he’d lived a little longer he might have needed to find out if the world had any optometrists left in it.

He let his mind rest as he settled in, listening to the soft voices drifting out of the house and the sighing of the breeze through the grass. Amy’s boots along the fence on her platform, Andrea on the other side. He’d learned a long time ago that he could get a lot of rest on watch, just turn off everything but his eyes and his ears and shift enough now and then to keep his legs and ass from falling asleep. How many times had that semi-meditative watch state saved him from losing it over the years? Merle and Shawn came to relieve Amy and Andrea after a few hours, but Rick sent T-Dog back inside for a good night’s rest. He knew he wouldn’t get one himself either way so he might as well be useful. The house quieted down and the last candle was put out. Rick sunk further back on his heels and just watched, just listened.

Somewhere near dawn Carl came to join him on his platform. It made Rick smile to see that his son was only just tall enough to see over the top.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey.” Carl echoed, staring out over the fields.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah, fell asleep too early.” Rick could hear the eye-roll in Carl’s voice. “Being a kid again is so annoying.”

Rick chuckled softly. “I’ll bet.”

“Mom wants me to talk to you.” Carl told him and Rick could hear the undercurrent of pain in his son’s tone.

“About what?” he asked, hoping it was something small, something a mother could ask her son to talk about with his father without sticking him in the middle.

“She still thinks you left her because of Shane.” Carl sighed, dashing Rick’s hopes. “She’s been dropping some not-very-subtle hints that she wants me to explain to you how much I need both my parents, how much I want you to stay together.”

Rick ground his teeth. “This isn’t something for you to be worrying about.” He said. “You shouldn’t be in the middle of this.”

Carl shrugged. “I’m your weak spot. Mom knows it. Judith and I have been your weak spots for a decade now. I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t make this right.” Rick told him.

“No.” Carl agreed, resting his chin on his hands on the fence. “But I get it. She’s scared. She’s really scared. And she’s trying to hold on to what she knows. I can sort of remember what that’s like.” Carl was silent a long time beside him, only the sound of the very earliest birds singing softly in the woods breaking the silence.

“I miss Michonne.” Carl said at last. “We’re still going to the prison, right? That’s where she’ll find us.”

“Yeah.” Rick leaned his elbows on the fence. “And most of the others. Glenn and Maggie and I talked about it earlier. Or last night, I suppose.” He looked east to the grey-green sliver of dawn that was inching across the horizon. “We figure with who remembers now we’ve got enough to take the place. Convincing Hershel to leave is going to be the problem.”

“Especially with his wife all…” Carl made a vague hand gesture and Rick nodded. “Maybe he doesn’t have to come.” Carl suggested.

Rick balked. “We can’t split up. There’s barely enough of us to keep everyone safe as it is. Nah, safety’s got to be in numbers right now.”

“But we can’t bring all the supplies and everything from here to the prison in one trip.” Argued Carl. “And if we leave this place unprotected we know they won’t be here by the time we can get back to pick them up after.”

“So what, we leave Hershel and the ones who don’t remember to fend for themselves?”

“That’s not what I said.” Carl shook his head, cutting off Rick’s objection. “Beth did okay before we got here, she can stay and keep an eye on everyone. I… well. I’m littler than when we took the place the first time. I don’t know if… I don’t know if I physically can be as helpful as I was then.”

Rick smirked at the flat-out annoyance in Carl’s tone.

“Andrea and Amy are good shots and you _know_ Andrea would _love_ to be left in charge here. Besides, I don’t think she should be going anywhere near Woodbury until we know what’s going on in there. Morgan’s tough and Shawn seems steady, though I guess they could remember any time and fall to pieces. And Mom really shouldn’t be travelling anywhere if she doesn’t absolutely have to. So you take the rest and head to the prison, get in, get it secure, and send a few back for us and the supplies.”

Rick pursed his lips. “’S a good plan.” He said at last and Carl scuffed his boot on the platform. “But do you think the folks who don’t remember would listen to you and Beth? To most of them you’re still just kids.”

“Morgan will. He gets it. The rest…” Carl shrugged. “I figure if we can talk Hershel ‘round to it then we should be fine. All he’s got to do is see sense in what Beth and I say and we’ll be okay. He already trusts her word on this sort of stuff.” Carl tapped the fence, highlighting his point.

“What happens if the herd runs through here early?” Rick asked.

“We’ve been working on a backup plan.” Carl told him. “Sophia, Beth, Duane and me. There’s a library in the town that Beth knows. She went there before to get a bunch of books on survivalism and wind turbines and stuff. It’s brick, so it’ll stand up to a herd. There’s nothing really that valuable in there so no one will probably be looking to loot it. If we lose the farm we go there. And if that place is gone or occupied or whatever we go to the elementary school. It’s brick, too.”

Rick’s stomach ached with a strange, sad pride. “Another good plan.” He said and Carl smiled.

“We’ve got a couple bags packed in case we’ve got to make a quick exit.” He said. Rick ruffled his hair and Carl smacked at his hand with a grin. It was short lived, melting off his face almost immediately as he looked back to the house. “What we’ve really got to decide is what’s going to happen to Shane.” He said.

“Maggie and Glenn came up with a plan.” Rick kept his eyes out over the fields, watching the quick darts of birds and squirrels in the morning light as the world came alive again. He outlined the idea in quick, simple terms.

“So like a trial?” Carl asked and Rick snorted.

“I guess. Good as.” He agreed. “I can’t see any other way around it. He ain’t gonna see sense on his own and Maggie’s right, I’m too close to it.”

“But we all get to speak?” Carl pressed and Rick didn’t like the steely squint he levelled back at the house. He could hear signs of life from inside, the smoke from the chimney thickening again as someone stirred up the coals and got a fire going for the morning meal.

“Yeah. We all get to say our piece. And if… if we decide…” Rick shook his head and left it unfinished.

“Good.” Carl’s little voice was like a stone dropping into Rick’s gut.

“C’mon.” Rick said. “We’ll get some breakfast, get Shawn up on the roof and the rest inside. Get this over with.”

It wasn’t long before everyone was up, Anette making her first appearance downstairs with Beth’s hand clasped tightly in hers. Maggie and Glenn must have let Hershel know the plan before going to bed the night before because the old vet just gave Rick a stern nod as he guided everyone into the sitting room. Someone had placed a chair in the middle of the carpet and Rick had an uncomfortable flash of a play he’d seen as a kid, a witch on trial back in colonial times. She’d sat under a spotlight in the middle of the stage and pleaded for God to prove her innocence. He knew Shane wouldn’t be pleading for anything but an end.

“Should I go get him?” Glenn asked when the last stragglers had taken their seats.

“Nah. I’ll do it. Explain things.” Rick said. He stripped his weapons and handed them to Carl. Glenn produced a pair of handcuffs Rick recognised from the pack he’d loaded at the station and handed them over. Rick held them, watching the shine off the chain and trying to convince himself this might work out okay. As he stepped into the hall Morgan came up beside him and Rick threw him a questioning glance.

“Returnin’ a favor.” Morgan told him with a grim smile. “I needed help with Jenny, figure you’re gonna need help with this.”

The stone in Rick’s belly sat a little heavier. Jenny had needed to be put down. He hoped that wasn’t a foregone conclusion for Shane. Still, he clapped Morgan on the shoulder in a silent thank you and pushed open the door to Shane’s room.

Shane was awake, staring through the window’s needlepoint curtains with a blank expression. His broken nose was a swollen, purple mass that bled down both cheeks in a livid bruise. Rick could hear it whistling in time with Shane’s breath. As Rick moved to one side of the bed and Morgan the other Shane blinked and let his bloodshot eyes focus. He looked Rick up and down and Rick knew he was reading the fear, the sorrow that was bowing his shoulders.

“You decide to get it over with?” Shane asked. His voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well, deep and dark and crumbling to dust.

“Ain’t up to Rick.” Morgan told him. Shane’s eyes didn’t waver from Rick’s face. “He’s already forgiven you for what you done. It’s the others that gotta decide if they can do the same.”

“Forgiven me.” Shane repeated and Rick couldn’t tell if it was a question or not.

“Yeah.” He rasped anyway. “I have, Shane. For all of it. I can’t… I can’t ever take back what I did to you. But I got you alive and breathin’ now and I ain’t gonna let it get like that again.”

Shane just stared at him.

“The rest, they’re gonna talk it over, ask you some questions.” Morgan told him and finally Shane turned his gaze away from Rick’s face and looked at him. “Way I understand it killin’ Rick woulda done harm to every one of ‘em. So they’re gonna decide if they can trust you or not.”

“And if they can’t?” Shane asked and Morgan glanced at Rick. Rick stared at his boots but forced himself to say it.

“I think they’ll kill you.” He knew his voice was cracking but his brother deserved the truth.

Shane took a deep breath through his nose, his chest rising and his ribs cracking. “Good.” He said and Rick nearly folded in half as the rock in his gut burst into flames.

“C’mon.” Morgan urged, holding his hand out to Rick. Rick passed him the cuffs and Morgan snapped one around Shane’s wrist. Then he produced a pocket knife and cut through the bed’s restraints. Shane gave no resistance as Morgan untied him and helped him sit up, cuffing his hands in front of him. Rick stepped up to slip a hand under Shane’s armpit and help him stand, knowing that after two days laying down Shane had to be sore and feeling wobbily.

“Gotta piss.” Shane grunted and Rick nearly laughed. It had only been a few days since their roles had been reversed.

“Yes, missus.” He said softly but Shane didn’t react. The three of them made their awkward way to the bathroom and Rick refused to leave Shane alone while he took a leak. Too many sharp objects available, not to mention the window. But Shane didn’t even seem to notice, just did his business, awkwardly washed his cuffed hands in the sink and turned back to Rick, face as blank as ever.

They led him to the living room and Morgan cuffed him to the chair, everyone’s gaze locked on Shane’s bruise-stained face and hollow eyes.

“They tell you why you’re here?” Glenn asked as Morgan moved back to stand against the wall.

Shane didn’t blink. “Cause y’all are gonna pronounce judgement on me.” He said robotically. Hershel frowned at Rick and Rick closed his eyes.

“Well, I guess that’s pretty much the idea.” Glenn allowed, a joyless smile tilting his mouth. “If you’re going to stay in this group it’ll be because we all agreed to it. If not…”

“Then you’ll end it?” Shane locked eyes with Glenn and Rick hated the hopeful lilt in his voice.

Glenn frowned at him, but nodded. “If that’s what needs to happen.” He agreed.

“Good. Let’s get this over with then.” Shane sat back in the chair, hooking one shoulder over the backrest and kicking one leg out to the side. Rick snorted. When in doubt, provoke.

“I figured we’d all just say what we think about this.” Glenn said, glancing to Maggie for support. She nodded and looked around at the others.

“Last time we went through all this we were all different.” She said. “An’ a lot of the stuff Shane did scared us at the time. But havin’ lived through what we’ve lived through, the prison, Terminus, the Wolves, we know now that his way ‘a thinkin’ wasn’t really wrong. Getting rid ‘a the walkers in the barn, Randall and his group, those were both choices every single one of us would have made with just a few months’ more experience in this world.”

“But his way of doing things _was_ wrong.” Glenn said. “He was a liar. He left Otis to die and didn’t even give him a head shot. He left a man behind and that’s something we don’t do. Ever.”

“Well…” Merle shot Glenn a self-depricating smile but Glenn shook his head.

“We went back for you. Rick and Daryl and T-Dog and I. Because what happened to you was wrong. Shane wanted something and was willing to sacrifice Otis to get it. A man who had been helping him.”

“We all made mistakes at the start.” Beth piped up. She sat in the same armchair as her mother, still holding her hand in both of hers. “I tried to kill myself. Daddy kept the walkers in the barn. We all did things that we look back on now and think ‘how the hell could I have been so selfish?’. That don’t mean he don’t deserve a second chance.”

“How do you feel about what you did to Otis?” Hershel asked Shane directly. Rick watched a flash of horror and hurt flit across Shane’s face but he quickly folded it away under a cocky smirk.

“Carl was dyin’.” He shrugged, too casual. “An’ I saw an opportunity. I took it. I ain’t sorry.”

“That’s a lie.” Lori said quietly. Rick glanced at her where she sat on a footstool with her arms wrapped around her middle. “He’s lying.”

“How do you know?” Maggie asked and Lori shot her a dead smile.

“I know when he’s lying and he’s doin’ it now.” Was all she said. Shane worked his jaw but didn’t respond.

“He tricked Rick and tried to kill him so that he could get what he wanted. Lori and Carl and control of the group.” Glenn said, like he was reading off a list of charges. “That kind of dishonesty is more dangerous than any of the other calls he made. We’ve got to be able to trust each other, one hundred percent, or this doesn’t work.” He gestured to all of them.

Rick shook his head. “He tried to talk to us. We shut him down every time. Dale, Me an’ Lori. We were always pushin’ back, pushin’ for the way the world used to be. And it was getting people killed. It was just like Alexandria, only Shane got there faster than us.”

“Exactly.” Glenn agreed. “How long were we on the road? How much shit did we have to go through before you got to the point you were at in Alexandria? But Shane got there in just a couple months? That doesn’t really bode well for his reliability long-term, I wouldn’t say.” Rick bit his lip but nodded, conceding the point. “You want to keep him with us, don’t you?” Glenn asked and Rick was grateful there was no accusation in his tone.

Rick just shrugged. “Judith’s on the way. We can’t afford to lose anyone who can protect her and Lori. And he was right about a lot last time. Randall, the barn. And I… Glenn I could have saved him last time. I could have. And I didn’t. I was dumb and I fucked up and it drove him insane.”

“Exactly, Rick.” Glenn murmured. “He was unstable.”

Rick snorted. “It’d be a bit of a pot and kettle situation if I held that against him, don’t you think?”

Glenn huffed a tiny, humourless laugh. “Yeah, I guess. But Rick, you never tried to kill any of us.”

“I did.” Rick disagreed. “And I succeeded. I killed _Shane_. I killed my best friend.”

“To protect us.” Glenn reminded him.

“And that’s what Shane thought he was doing.” Rick shot back. “He saw that I was weak, that I couldn’t make the hard decisions. And he was right. It took me killin’ him to figure that out.”

“He lured you out into the dark and tried to shoot you.” Glenn insisted.

“And Nicholas?” Maggie challenged. Glenn paused. He’d told Rick about the whole thing after he’d made it back to Alexandria and the herd had been taken care of. Nicholas’s anger, his cowardice. How Glenn had given him a second chance, decided to trust him after he lured Glenn out into the woods and put a bullet in his shoulder.

“Doesn’t seem that different.” Rick murmured.

“And Nicholas nearly got me killed.” Glenn said.

“And Tara?” Rick pushed.

“She didn’t know any better. The Governor lied to her.”

“But she was wrong. And she attacked us. And then she became our family.” Rick pressed. “Don’t you see? We’ve all made bad calls, gone off the rails. Hell, remember how Michonne was at when we met her?”

“Don’t know what my two cents is worth, here,” Merle soughed, stepping forward to look at Glenn, “but I come ta believe a man can change his stripes. ‘Specially if it’s fer kin.” He glanced at Daryl where he sat on the window sill and Daryl stared thoughtfully back. “Way I see it, Lawdog was losin’ folk while they was still here. Lost his woman, lost his brother. I happen to know what that second one feels like an’ I can tell ya it ain’t no spring picnic.”

“So you would trust him after he pulled a gun on Rick?”

“Hell I’ve pulled a gun on Rick, Korea! Lotsa times.” Merle laughed. “But y’all was gonna give me a chance, even before. Why was that?”

Glenn’s eyes flashed to Daryl and Rick could see the shock on the hunter’s face.

“Exactly.” Merle nodded. “‘Cause my brother asked you ta. Looks ta me like Rick’s askin’ y’all to give his brother another chance. Don’t see why it’s any different.”

“Carol?” Maggie turned to the older woman, raising an eyebrow.

Carol pursed her lips. “Do you remember the outbreak at the prison?” she asked and Rick flinched. The illness that had nearly taken Glenn from them. Maggie’s face said she remembered just as well as he did. “I don’t know if Rick ever told you but when it first broke out I killed two of our own. I murdered them in cold blood and dragged their bodies out into one of the far courtyards. I thought I was protecting everyone because I knew if that sickness spread we were all in danger. Rick found out and sent me away from the prison for it. Not because of what I did or even because I wasn’t sorry I’d done it. It was because I’d lied about it. I’d tried to hide it from him and from all of you. Glenn’s right. It’s deception that’s the danger.”

“Don’t think we can forget all the good Shane did for us, even before Rick showed up.” T-Dog chimed in. “He kept everyone together in the quarry, tried to keep some kind a law and order goin’ when we were all panicking all the time. He protected the kids, got everyone organized. He really stepped up.”

“Do we get a say in this?” Amy asked, motioning to herself and her sister. Andrea was scowling at them all from the sofa and Rick traded a glance with Glenn and Maggie.

“I think everyone does.” Glenn said. “But for those of you that weren’t here or don’t remember, we’ll definitely take that into account in making any decision.”

Amy nodded. “Well I would like to know what the risk/benefit is in keeping him with us. I mean, he’s strong, he’s a good shot. We’ve all seen him working hard for us and fighting to defend us. Did he ever show any other violent tendencies toward members of the group?”

“Got in a couple scuffles with Daryl and Merle last time.” T-Dog said, sending Merle a rueful glance.

Merle just chuckled. “Think we can safely put that down to the Dixon boys bein’ the Dixon boys.” He said.

“Lori.” Shane grunted and everyone looked at him.

“What?” Lori asked and Shane dragged his eyes up from the floor to look at her.

“You.” He said. “I hurt you. The night we was at the CDC, an’ I was drunk and pissed off and desperate. An’ you hated my guts for what I’d done, for leavin’ Rick behind. Hell, I hated my guts. An’ I put my hands on you an’ you were scared. An’ you were right ta be.”

Lori’s eyelids fluttered, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.

“I know you don’t remember that but tell me if that’s a lie.” Shane challenged and Lori shook her head.

“I want to know why.” Carl demanded, coming to stand in front of Shane’s chair. Rick saw Shane’s shoulders tighten, his bold-faced apathy slipping in the face of Carl’s anger. “Why did you lie to us? Why did you try to kill my dad?”

Shane couldn’t hold the boy’s eyes. “Carl…” he croaked and his tone was so laden with pain Rick’s legs threatened to buckle.

“Did you know he was alive in that hospital? Did you lie to us from the start?”

Shane closed his eyes. “No.” He said. “People were dyin’. It was chaos. An’ the machines stopped workin’. I put my ear to his heart and it was quiet. Nothin’. I thought he was dead.” He finally looked up, meeting Carl’s stare head-on. Carl’s frown deepened but he didn’t call Shane a liar.

“I was losin’ you.” Shane told him. His eyes slipped over Carl’s shoulder to Lori. “I was losin’ her. And Rick. Rick I was losin’ you. An’ I… I couldn’t…” he shook his head and slammed his eyes shut. “You didn’t trust me anymore. I don’t blame ya, not now. But I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t. Glenn an’ Dale. Andrea. Hell, even that redneck fucker took better care a you than I could.” Shane shot Daryl a glare and Rick stiffened.

A tiny sound made Rick glance up at his son, standing absolutely still in front of Shane. Carl’s face was iron as he leaned forward, staring at Shane with hate in his eyes. “You say one word against my brother,” he murmured, his little face just inches from Shane’s, “and I’ll make sure you don’t have a tongue to do it again.” He promised.

“Carl.” Rick warned but Carl shot him a glare.

“No, Dad.” He hissed. “He wasn’t there! He doesn’t get to call Daryl names and look down on him when _he’s_ the one that let us all down.” He jabbed a little finger into Shane’s chest. “Daryl saved all our lives more times that you can fucking _blink_ , you asshole. And what did you do? You fucked another man’s wife and tried to steal his kid and when that didn’t work you pulled a gun on him! _You_ did that, Shane! No one made you do it, no one forced you into it. You weren’t backed into a corner and you had every other option in the world. But no. You made my dad kill you and you made _me_ put down your corpse!” Carl’s cheeks were red and soaked with tears as he yelled in Shane’s face. Rick could see the words hitting Shane like physical blows.

The room was silent for a whole minute, the only sound Carl’s quiet, rage-filled gasps.

“Y-you…” Shane was white as a sheet beneath his bruises, eyes wide and flooded with pain. “You had ta…”

“Yeah.” Carl sniffed, shoving a wrist under his nose to catch the snot. “I put you down. I watched your head explode. And I hated my dad for way too long because of the thing _you made him do._ ”

“I’m sorry.” Shane choked, bending as far forward over his lap as the cuffs would let him. “Carl. Carl I’m so sorry!” It was like a dam breaking. Sobs plowed through his body like shockwaves, ugly, choking things that twisted his hands and left him breathless. His nose began to bleed again as he tried to hold it all in, bursting the tender capillaries that hadn’t had time to knit together yet. And through it all, the the storm of tears and the tremors that rattled his chair against the floor he just kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

As Shane began to quiet, his whole body shivering, Anette spoke. “‘Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy’.” Her voice was soft,but her face was clear as she looked at the top of Shane’s bowed head.

Rick knelt in front of Shane’s chair, pressing his forehead to Shane’s and closing his eyes. He held Shane’s head between his hands and felt his breath puffing against his chin. “No more lies.” He said, calm and clear. “Shane, you can come back to us. You can protect us. You can be in our lives. So long as you’re honest with us. You gotta trust us and let us trust you. Please. _Please_ don’t make us lose you again.”

He was close enough to see the tears clinging to Shane’s lashes.

“No.” Shane breathed. “No, I… Anything. Rick, I’ll do anything.”

“Live.” Rick told him, sitting back on his boot heels but keeping his hands on Shane’s knees. “Be part of our family. Please.”

“I…” Shane looked at all of them, something broken and bleeding in his eyes. “Can I?”

Glenn was holding Maggie’s hand. Carol’s eyes were glistening. Hershel was smiling the soft, proud smile Rick had seen from across the prison’s fence that last day and T-Dog was staring at the floor. Rick looked to Carl and found his son staring down at them with his lip caught between his teeth.

“Judith.” Said Carl and Rick’s heart stuttered.

“Judith?” Shane mumbled, confused. Rick realized he’d left before they’d explained about Judith the other night. He didn’t know.

“My baby sister.” Carl said. He hugged his arms around himself, looking for a moment so like Lori. “Mom’s pregnant with her now.” Shane’s eyes widened, flashing to Lori who sat pale and silent on the footstool. Carl waited until Shane looked back at him. “She looks like you.” He told him.

Another sob shot through Shane and Rick closed his eyes. “I… I have a daughter?” Shane breathed in wonder.

“She’s ours.” Carl told him. He wasn’t angry, didn’t snarl the words at Shane like Rick thought he might have. Instead he just looked calmly at the man he’d once looked at like a second father and told him how it was. “You were gone. Mom was gone. Judith is _ours._ If we let you live are you going to try to take her from us?”

Shane blinked rapidly, trying to clear his overburdened mind. “Take her?” he huffed.

“She called him ‘dad’.” Carl said, pointing to Rick. “We kept her alive, all of us. We taught her to walk and to talk and to keep herself safe. She was ours. We loved her. We protected her. If we let you stay you can’t take her away from us.”

Shane stared at him.

“I… I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you did before.” Carl admitted. “It hurt us all, especially Mom and Dad. But… if you promise you won’t take Judy from us, you’ll be her uncle or something, just another part of her life and not take her from me and Dad, I… I can try.”

Rick held his breath.

“Carl.” Shane whispered.

“Promise me.” Carl demanded. “Promise me and make me believe you.”

Shane swallowed. “I love you, Carl.” He said, soft and low. “An’ I’m gonna love my daughter. But if that’s how I gotta atone, if lettin’ Rick be her daddy is how I redeem myself for all the wrong I’ve done ta you, then that’s what I’m gonna do. Just so long as I get to love her, too.”

Carl stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then, so quick Rick almost missed it, Carl nodded.

“Okay.” He said.


	15. Right Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your responses to the last chapter! I continue to be amazed by the response to this fic so far. This one is another long one, even longer than the last. I debated making the first little bit its own interlude but decided that would break up the flow of the story in a jarring way. Instead I posted the whole thing as one massive chapter and I hope it doesn’t drag too much.  
> Feedback is life and I hope you enjoy!

Rick stepped out onto the porch, wondering if this was why all good southern houses had one. He needed space, needed solidity beneath his feet and the open air to breathe so he could just _think_. The rail creaked under his grip like it understood and the candlelight from the windows spilled out across the boards with a familiar sort of glow. He was starting to rely on this porch.

Shane.

They could make it work. They would. They had to. Shane would try and Rick would make sure he never lost sight of the reasons behind all his brother had done. The why mattered, he told himself. It had been jarring to hear Shane confess what he had done to Lori at the CDC, a rake clawing across Rick’s chest to listen to the rest of his family run through Shane’s sins like a rap sheet. But it was the why that broke Rick’s heart. He and Shane were so alike in some ways, willing to do anything to keep their family together and liable to go a little crazy if it started falling apart. Rick let his head hang between his shoulders and just tried to breathe as the _why_ settled deeper into his bones.

“Rick?” Lori’s voice was barely above a whisper. He let it blend into the wind just to hear it again. “Rick?” He turned, leaning his hip on the rail and watching her move toward him. Her arms were crossed over her belly again, her hair pulled back off her face.

Beautiful.

“You alright?” he asked and she paused, surprised. He knew she was confused by everything happening between them but she had to know he still cared for her. He felt a little flicker of guilt that she might be doubting that.

“Not really.” She said at last and he huffed through his nose.

“Nah, wouldn’t think so.” He said. “What can I do?” Her eyes widened and he had to look away. He wanted to ask her how she could doubt that he was still there for her but in truth he knew. All this, it was confusing. Their marriage had been one of the core pillars of her life and he’d knocked that out from under her. It had to feel like he didn’t care no matter how many times he told her he did.

“He… the baby’s definitely his?” she didn’t pull the punch and Rick could only be grateful.

“Yeah.” He said and managed to smile.

She closed her eyes. “I hoped… I thought maybe…”

“I know.” He said.

“Is that why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why you slept with me that night?”

He had a flash of warmth, her thighs around his hips and his hands in her hair. He shook his head. “No. I slept with you because I loved you, and I’ve been missing you for nine years. And for one night I had you back and you were safe and whole and mine again.” Her lips parted on a stunned little breath and he hung his head. “Maybe it was selfish. I loved you, Lori.” He told her. “I did. An’ I still do. But I love you because you’re Carl’s mother. Judith’s mother. I love you for who you were before all this, who I was then. I’m not that man anymore. I’m never gonna be. An’ you’re never gonna be the woman you were before. An’ that’s nobody’s fault. This world just does that to you.”

Lori was silent for a moment and for once she didn’t try to pick a fight. “You loved her.” He was glad it wasn’t a question.

“Completely.” He said anyway.

“Even though…” she glanced at the window and he smiled.

“Even though.” He agreed. “She’s my daughter. I love her.”

Lori drew a shuddering breath and Rick could see a tear glistening on her cheek in the dim light. “Thank you.” She said. “You’re a good man, Rick.”

Rick shook his head. “You’re gonna love her, too. I promise.”

A tiny smile tilted her mouth. “I already do.” She said, placing a hand on her still-flat belly. “Shane-”

“He didn’t know.” Rick said. She scowled at the porch boards but Rick pushed on. He had to make her understand. “He really thought I was dead in that hospital. He blocked the door with a big cabinet thing so the walkers wouldn’t get me and that’s the only reason I’m standing here right now, ‘cause he couldn’t stand the thought of them tearin’ me up.” Lori closed her eyes as her nostrils flared.

“The last time we went through this,” Rick told her, “the guilt of what he’d done drove him insane. An’ you and I, we pushed him away. We were wrapped up in how we felt, our own guilt and fear and… all of it. An’ we weren’t there when he needed us. I know you feel like he betrayed you. He does, too. But he’s been in love with you since the day we met. He ever tell you that?” She shook her head. “Me neither, not ’til the quarry. An’ he didn’t do a damn thing about it until you both thought I was dead and gone. He waited ’til the actual end of the world, Lor.” He refused to mention the revenge sex Shane had told him about, knowing it would only put Lori on the defensive. She was never more vicious than when she knew she’d done something wrong. “An’ then he finds out he’d left his best friend for dead and screwed his wife. He was trying to do what was right and managed to do everything wrong and hurt everyone he was tryin’ to protect. Do you get how that might drive a man to madness?”

A tear slipped down her cheek and Rick stepped up to wrap her in his arms, glad that she accepted it with gentle grace. She tucked her head under his chin and they stood together in the cool night air. “I’m not gonna ask you to forgive him,” Rick murmured against her hair, “no more than I would ask Carl to. But I am askin’ you not to be cruel to him when he saved both our lives. Carl’s, too. He was tryin’ to save the people he loved. Please, Lor.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, just rocked from foot to foot in silence. Finally, she murmured, “I suppose child support is gonna look a little different these days, huh?”

Rick actually laughed.

“Mom?” Carl poked his head out the front door, “Dad?”

“Hey, Carl.” Lori smiled, swiping the tears from her cheeks.

“You talking about Shane?” he guessed, coming to lean against Lori’s hip and wrap his arms around her waist. It made Rick’s breath stutter to see them like that. And knowing Judith was on the way…

“Nah.” Lori said, ruffling Carl’s hair. “Baseball scores. I say the Braves are off their game but your Dad here thinks they’re gonna cream the Cardinals next week.”

Carl snorted. “I’m with you, Mom.” He said. “The Braves really suck this year.”

Rick chuckled. “Hey,” he pushed Carl’s bangs off his forehead. “What you said in there… You know that no matter what happens you’re gonna be Judith’s big brother, right? No one’s gonna take that away from you. Shane wouldn’t even want to. Hell, if nothin’ else your mother wouldn’t stand for it.”

Lori nodded and bent to press a kiss to Carl’s forehead.

Carl’s smile softened. “I know that. But…” he shrugged. “She was ours.”

“She is ours.” Rick told him. “And Carol’s and Daryl’s and Beth’s and everybody’s. She had all of us. She will have all of us. Shane will just be another person who loves her. And if she calls him Dad…” Rick couldn’t help the way his voice cracked on the word.

“No.” Carl cut him off. “No, that’s yours.”

Rick couldn’t deny that deep in his gut something twisted and sharp wanted it that way. He’d given everything for that little girl and even though every other member of the group would have done the same Carl was right; she was his.

“Lots of kids have two dads.” Lori said, shooting Rick a questioning glance. He smiled. “Lots of kids have two moms or step-parents. If Rick is ‘Dad’ then maybe Shane can be… Papa?” Rick could see how much it was costing her to suggest it, how the anger and betrayal were still boiling just below the surface. But she was trying and he wanted to fall on his knees to thank her. Instead he pressed his lips to her cheek. Carl shook his head but he didn’t say any more.

Rick closed his eyes and let himself have this, just holding them as the porch creaked softly beneath his boots.

* * * * *

Rick leaned his fists on the kitchen table and studied the map Glenn had drawn of the prison’s layout. Carol and Maggie had contributed as much as they could, marking down all the places they remembered finding pockets of walkers or bottlenecks where they could collect to block the group on their way through.

“This tower was burned out last time,” Glenn told Merle, pointing to the south tower. “And this courtyard was where we found the ones in riot gear.”

“Well shit,” Merle scowled, scratching at his chin.

“It’s not that bad,” Glenn shrugged. “The visor means it’s harder for them to bite you and the heat has sort of liquified them inside the gear so they’re actually easier to stab if you just get the right angle. Up and under.” He mimed stabbing up under Merle’s chin and the bigger man nodded.

“I can handle that.” He said.

“Can you handle working in formation?” Maggie asked. “‘Cause if ya can’t we’ll put you up in a tower.”

“Psht.” Merle waved a dismissive hand, “Sweetheart, I was in the army. I can drill with the best of ‘em.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she snorted in disgust.

“Didn’t you get kicked out for punching your captain?” Glenn asked and Merle turned a ruddy shade of red.

“Shows what you know!” he grumbled. “Prick was a sergeant.”

“There’s a sporting goods store here,” Rick got them back on track, pointing to the road map that was laid out beside Glenn’s drawing. “We can hit it on the way and see what we can find in terms of armour.”

“Motorcross.” Merle grunted. “Them plastic plates so’s ya don’t get road rash on yer nasty bits is pretty tough. Would be good if we could find some ‘a that.”

Glenn nodded. “We’ve got to get good protection for our feet and lower legs, especially.” He glanced at Hershel across the room and swallowed. “There were lots of them on the ground, getting knocked over in the dark.”

“Snake boots.” Daryl murmured from across the table. Everyone’s eyes turned to him and his shoulders tensed up. “They got boots fer workin’ in swamps, so’s the snakes can’t bite through.”

“How in the hell you know a thing like that?” Merle demanded and Daryl shrugged.

“Saw it on TV once.”

“They got a hiking section in that store if I remember right.” Rick nodded. “Got Carl those boots that time we went to the Smokies. Maybe they got somethin’ like that.”

“Ranger stations at Chatahoochee might have some, too.” Hershel suggested. The old vet still wasn’t entirely on board with leaving the farm but he had agreed that they should at least have a back up plan in case the farm got overrun. Rick figured that was enough of a step in the right direction for now.

“Staties.” Shane said. He stood back from the table, arms crossed as he shifted from foot to foot like he was standing on hot coals. He hadn’t looked anyone in the face for more than a brief glance since they’d let him up from his chair yesterday but at least he was talking again. He’d eaten the food Anette had pressed on him and cleaned himself up at Hershel’s urging. Rick had stuck close, dragging a camp mattress into Shane’s room to camp beside him the night before. Shane hadn’t said a word about it and neither had anyone else.

As every eye turned to Shane he gave his head a little shake. “King County didn’t have no SWAT gear but the State Patrol had a SWAT division. They was based in Atlanta but they had that trainin’ camp up by Panola. Might have some gear there worth checkin’ on.”

“Not a bad idea.” Merle gruffed. “An’ it’d be on the way sorta.”

“Might be a ranger station there, too.” Hershel said.

“Worth a check.” Rick agreed, shooting Shane a tiny smile. Shane shrank back against the wall and Rick let his eyes slide away. At least the ache in his gut was about a tenth of what it had been yesterday.

“Are you sure a scouting mission is a good idea?” Maggie asked. “That means splitting us up twice.”

Rick scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t see a way around it. Things are different this time. We’ve got no idea who remembers. If the Governor knows we’re comin’ do you think he would ‘a waited to take the prison? We can’t go stormin’ in blind. It’ll be fast enough with just a few of us gettin’ over there and back. A few days with the cars, a week or two if we lose ‘em.”

“And if something goes wrong?” Hershel asked.

“We’ll deal with it.” Rick assured him.

“The fewer of us there are together the harder it’s going to be to keep anyone from doing something stupid if they remember.” Glenn pointed out and Rick chewed his lip.

“We can’t wait around for them to remember before getting a plan together.” Carol said. “We all know that herd is heading this way, or maybe another gang of murder-happy rapists. But _something_ is going to want in that fence eventually. We need the prison. Sooner rather than later.”

Rick tapped his fingers on the prison map. “So we’ll go and scout it out and if it all looks good -“

“Dad!” Carl’s shout had Rick whirling around. Upstairs. He knew that tone. He was up the stairs with his gun drawn before he could process who was on his heels, throwing the door open to the bedroom Carl, Sophia, Duane, Morgan and Carol had all been sharing. Carl was on the floor, kneeling beside Duane who was curled over his knees and hyperventilating.

“Breathe,” Carl soothed, rubbing the taller boy’s back. “Just breathe.”

“She was… Momma… she…” Duane gasped. His nails dug into the floorboards with a hideous squeak and Carl gently pulled them up.

“Dad,” he said in a calm, smooth tone. “He’s stronger than me.”

Rick holstered the python, making sure the leather strap was secured over the grip before he knelt carefully beside Duane. Daryl stood in the doorway looking relieved to find the boys safe and sound.

“I’ll find his Da.” He said softly and slipped away. Shane ducked his head in the door, face pale and hands shaking. When he saw Carl was alright he gave a jerky nod and retreated back downstairs.

“Duane,” Rick called, taking the boy’s hands away from his face. Duane had already left ugly red crescents in his forehead with his own nails and Rick looped his hands around the boy’s wrists to keep them on his knees instead. They crumpled in the denim until his knuckles were white.

“Momma,” Duane’s voice sounded so small, so hurt, and Rick carefully wrapped the boy in a hug.

“It’s okay, Duane.” He hushed. “You’re safe now. Your daddy’s comin’.”

Carl rubbed the older boy’s back and nodded. “You’re alright.” He said.

It was only a minute or two before Morgan appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and worried. “Duane?”

“Daddy!” Duane sobbed, struggling to his feet. Rick helped him up, guiding his shaking body into Morgan’s arms and exchanging a nod with Daryl. The hunter melted back into the hallway as Morgan lifted Duane into his arms and let him cry. “Momma.” Duane hiccoughed. “It was Momma! She… she was there an’ I… I just…” he burried his face in his father’s neck.

“Shh, shh, now.” Morgan soothed, taking a seat on the bed so Duane could curl up in his lap. “That ain’t now. Rick an’ I, we took care ‘a your momma. She ain’t wanderin’ lost out there anymore. I promise you.”

“She bit me.” Duane whispered and Morgan shot a grateful glance at Rick.

“That was then.” He said, keeping his eyes on Rick’s. “That ain’t now. Right now you’re safe. An’ you’re here with me. An’ your momma’s with Jesus now. You understand me?” Duane nodded into Morgan’s shirt and Rick raised his eyebrows in question. Morgan closed his eyes. “We’re okay.”

Rick took Carl’s shoulder and steered him out of the room, shutting the door gently behind them.Carl stared thoughtfully at the door for a moment.

“What?” Rick asked.

Carl glanced at him. “He was holding Beth’s hairbrush.” He said. “He said his mom had the same one. And then…” he waved a hand at the door.

“You think that triggered it?” Rick asked. What the hell did a hairbrush have to do with his mother being a walker and attacking him?

“Dunno. I’ve been thinking if we might be able to trigger the others, the ones who don’t remember, somehow. That way we could control when they react. But I can’t figure it out. If telling them everything didn’t do it right away…” he shrugged.

“Well,” Rick mused, “you, me, Sophia, Beth and Merle all just woke up one day knowin’. Carol said it was Ed grabbin’ her. And the walker comin’ at her. So maybe adrenaline? Amy, too. Maggie and Glenn…” he smiled thinking of their reunion in the front yard.

“She said it was the way he said her name. So sound does it for some people,” said Carl. “Anette was holding something in the kitchen. Maybe she remembered like Duane?”

“Don’t know what got Otis to remember.” Rick sighed. “An’ Shane and T-Dogg it was bein’ told.”

“It’s too unpredictable.” Carl scuffed his boot along the skirting board.

Rick could only nod. An idea he’d had a couple weeks ago floated to the surface again. He wondered…

“Listen,” he said, changing the subject, “you gonna be okay if I leave you here with Shane?” Carl hadn’t said another word to the man since the end of the makeshift trial. Shane hadn’t pushed the boy, either. In fact he’d been avoiding Carl and Lori even more than he’d been avoiding everyone else. Rick couldn’t decide if it was better to take Shane along on the run knowing he was still so off kilter, or leave him here where Rick couldn’t keep an eye on him.

Carl shrugged. “Dunno.” He admitted. “I’m not going to shoot him or anything, unless he goes off the deep end again. But I was telling him the truth. I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

“‘Specially not if he keeps insulting Daryl, huh?” Rick grinned and Carl scowled.

“Daryl’s worth twenty of him.” He spat and Rick chuckled.

“Daryl’s worth twenty of most folks.” He agreed and that at least got a smile out of his son.

“I’ll try.” Carl said at last. “If he really… if he does want to be one of us I won’t make you send him away.”

Rick’s heart clenched in his chest. He reached out to push Carl’s sun-stained hair from his face, cupping his cheek in his palm. “Thank you.”

The creak of a stair made Rick turn his head to find Daryl standing half-way up, his face locked down into careful blankness. When he caught Rick’s gaze he gave a full-body flinch and Rick’s gut twisted in sympathy. Daryl had been listening. Well, shit. Even a decade down the line, a decade of fighting and bleeding and starving and struggling side-by-side, Daryl had never known how to take a compliment. The sort of genuine affection Carl held for him must be blowing his mind right about now, Rick figured. So he did what he usually did when Daryl got stuck on a kind word.

“Daryl.” He said, pretending he had no idea the hunter had overheard them. “I got an idea I could use a hand with. Feel like a walk outside the fence?”

Daryl glared at him, clearly trying to find a way to turn Rick’s offer into something sinister. But after a moment he shrugged. “Sure.”

Rick smiled and motioned for him to lead the way down the stairs. Daryl’s eyes flicked to Carl for a split second before he turned away and Rick glanced back to see Carl frowning after the hunter, probably thinking the same things Rick was.

God, he missed Daryl.

They checked on the others in the dining room, explaining what had happened. Rick set Glenn and Maggie to packing the cars with supplies and gassing them up. He asked Merle and T-Dog to check all their weapons and ammo while Daryl fetched his crosssbow. With a quick word to Hershel and Anette Rick checked that all his knives were in place, grabbed a hatchet from the porch and beckoned Daryl after him. He waved to Andrea, Amy, and Shawn who were once again on watch with Beth, and stepped out into the fields. A tiny sigh slipped from his lips as he shook out his arms and turned toward the woods. He smiled as he heard Daryl simply following along behind, apparently content to see what Rick was up to without asking questions. Rick led him down into a gully, keeping his eyes on the trees and his ears open. He tried to remember what Morgan had told him a few years back, the right shape…

“Daryl,” Rick murmured, slowing up so Daryl came alongside. Daryl flicked his eyes at him and Rick pointed up at the leaves overhead. “You know what ash looks like?”

Daryl frowned but looked around. “Ain’t none ‘a these.”

“Well,” Rick motioned forward with the hatchet and Daryl took the lead. It was another hundred paces before he stopped in front of a large, pale-barked tree with wide leaves.

“This ‘un.” He waved a hand at the tree and Rick smiled.

“Good. Gimme a boost.”

Daryl shrugged and squatted down with his back to the tree, linking his hands between his knees in front of him. Rick stepped into Daryl’s palms and shoved on his shoulder, scrambling up into the lower branches with less grace than he’d have liked to admit. Daryl snorted as Rick’s boot slipped and he nearly fell ass-over-teacup right back down but he managed to recover.

“Keep a lookout.” Rick told him, ignoring the hunter’s snickering. Not too far out there was a branch that looked pretty good, about as thick around as his wrist and mostly straight for four or five feet. Locking the branch where he sat between his thighs he gripped the hatchet in both hands and set to work. He was pleased to find his muscles were finally getting back to their normal strength, or at least close, and it only took a half dozen swings for the branch to fall noisily to the forest floor. Rick swung his leg over, gripped the branch where he sat and dropped down after it, landing with a muffled huff nor far away.

“The hell’s that fer?” Daryl asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him.

“Morgan had a staff.” Rick told him, squatting down and taking out his largest knife to start hacking all the little twigs and side-branches off. “Back before. Always had it with him, like your bow. Said he made it out of ash wood when he was livin’ with a friend of his.Figured if we could make him one he might remember.”

Daryl chewed his cheek. “You really believe all that shit?” he asked, nodding his head back toward the farm.

Rick nodded. He didn’t need to ask what Daryl meant. Daryl had clearly been bursting with questions since the night they’d told everyone the truth. “That’s how it happened.” He said.

“Tsk.” Daryl curled his lip. “You’re off your damn nut.”

Rick gave a soft laugh, catching the younger man by surprise. He let the knife fall, twisting it this way and that to let the sun glint off it as he smiled up at Daryl. “I have been. A few times now. Always got pulled back, though.” He thought of Hershel talking soft to him through the prison fence, Michonne on Alexandria’s main street. Daryl on the road, a bottle of water in one hand and his red rag in the other.

_You can’t see yourself. He can._

“Y’got Merle believin’ ya.” Daryl allowed, taking a quick glance around to make sure all the noise wasn’t drawing any walkers. “Don’t know if that lends ya much credibility.”

Rick grinned and dragged his branch over to a fallen log, taking a seat and starting to peel the bark off with his knife. “Merle an’ me, we didn’t get along so well last time.” He admitted.

Daryl was less than shocked by that little tidbit. “Merle don’t get along with no one. Bastard could start a fight in an empty house.”

Rick chuckled. “It’s pretty bizarre trustin’ him, havin’ him on my side. ‘Specially when it comes to you.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Ya said ya chained him to a roof.”

“And you would ‘a beat my ass for it if Shane hadn’t got you in a chokehold.” Rick remembered.

“Chokehold is illegal.” Daryl scolded and Rick laughed.

“That’s what you said last time.” He paused in his peeling and scratched at his beard. “Well, what you yelled last time while Shane had you in a chokehold.”

Daryl peered at him and Rick recognized that look. It was the look Daryl gave a stranger, someone feeding them a deal that was too good to be true. It was the look he got when they were walking into a trap. Rick didn’t say anything, just let Daryl look while he worked up to whatever he was gonna ask.

“Was twenty-two.” He said finally. Rick shot him a quizical look. “In that camp.” Daryl clarified. “Ya killed twenty-two men. That kid first. I…”

“That was the first man you ever killed.” Rick realized. How had he missed that?

“An’ then the guy with the bead on ya.” Daryl nodded.

“I should have said it then, but thanks.” Rick felt like a damn idiot for not saying it sooner. Daryl just shrugged and picked at the bark of the nearest tree. Rick let him think a while longer. When Daryl spoke again his tone was softer.

“Yer boy.” Daryl began. “He said he remembers all this shit, too?”

Rick nodded.

“An’ he… he said I was part of yer group. He said I…” he left it unfinished, raising his thumb to his mouth to gnaw nervously at the side of his nail.

“You were my right-hand.” Rick told him, dipping his head so Daryl wouldn’t have to feel his eyes on him while he heard this. “Merle wasn’t far off when he said I’d lose it if you decided to leave. I could always count on you, even if it was just ta tell me I was bein’ a damn fool. You kept my baby daughter alive. Carl. Kept all of us alive at one point or another. Sometimes I thought you were damn near invincible, the way you just kept fuckin’ goin’. Took some time but you came to trust us. We were your people.” He looked up, catching the glare Daryl was levelling at him. “And you were ours.”

Daryl was quiet a long time, just chewing on his thumb and staring as Rick kept skinning the staff. “Yer full ‘a shit.” He said finally but there was no anger in his voice.

“Why ya say that?” Rick asked even though he knew damn well why. Daryl just hunched his shoulders and chewed his thumb a little more viciously. Finally, when Rick had the whole staff decently peeled and knew that Daryl was probably drawing blood he shifted, tilting his head down sideways to look at Daryl up under his bowed head. “Daryl, I know you got no reason ta trust me. I know I sound like I belong in a damn nuthouse with all this. But I promise you, it’s the truth. Carol. Glenn and Maggie, Shane, T-Dog, yer brother, all the kids now, they remember because it all happened. An’ every one of ‘em will tell you the same. We can’t do it without you.”

Daryl didn’t acknowledge him and Rick just let him think for a while. He began trying to shape the ends of the staff into something rounder. It didn’t go very well. He figured he’d need a power tool of some kind but damned if he knew which one. Or maybe just sandpaper and a whole lot of patience? Daryl didn’t offer any instruction, just watched out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t guess I’m gonna run out on them kids.” He said at last.

Rick held in the relieved sigh that threatened to burst from him like a spring rain through a dam. “Didn’t figure you would.” He said instead and made a few more ugly cuts. “Don’t think I’m gonna do much more than hurt my hands if I keep on.” He said, holding up the stick for Daryl to see. “We’ll see what Hershel can do with it.”

“Looks like a damn stick ta me.” Daryl said and Rick snorted.

“Yeah, well, I never did get what was so special about the one Morgan had. Maybe he’ll take one look at this and remember enough to tell me it’s a piece of shit.” Daryl huffed a tiny laugh that did something strange to Rick’s gut. “C’mon. Better get back.”

On the way back to the farmhouse Rick used the unfinished staff as a walking stick, smiling to himself as he thought of all the old man jokes Daryl would be lobbing at him if he remembered. Daryl caught him smiling but Rick just shook his head. He figured Daryl had enough to think about without Rick admitting he missed the man Daryl wasn’t yet. That would be a hell ofa head-fuck for anyone and Daryl especially.

They were nearly at the gate when they heard a gunshot. Shouting, Andrea and Amy. Rick ran. Daryl was sprinting alongside him but dropped back as they rounded the fence and found a small herd pushing towards the gate. Out in front, standing swaying on the spot, was Shawn.

“Fuck.” Daryl hissed and Rick ran faster. The walkers were closing on the boy and all Rick could do as he pushed his legs harder was watch as Shawn reached out a shaking hand.

“No!” he heard Amy scream behind him. The next second a bolt flew past Rick’s ear and took the walker clean through the eye, dropping it to the grass. Shawn stood, just staring at his own hand. Rick reached him and grabbed him by the collar, flinging him backward so he landed on his ass halfway to the fence. Rick spun and brought the hatchet up, splitting the gaping jaws of a walker in two with a horrific crunch. A couple of it’s teeth flew out and bounced off Rick’s cheek but he barely noticed. One sharp tug told him the hatchet wasn’t going to budge so he kicked the walker aside and hefted the staff.

There were nearly a dozen walkers left, one flailing in the grass from that first shot and Rick darted forward to brain it with the end of the staff. He threw a hand up, hoping Andrea and Amy would have the brains not to shoot at him and Daryl as they cleared this lot out.

“On me.” Rick called to Daryl, testing his grip on the stick. Daryl didn’t respond.

Another bolt whizzed past, dropping one of the walkers in the front as Rick smashed the staff up into the chin of another. The vibrations through the wood made his teeth rattle and his wrists scream but he jammed the rough-cut end into the walker’s eye and whipped the other end to bust the skull of the next. Christ, how did Morgan do this without shaking all his joints apart? Another bolt, another dead walker. Rick swung and pummelled his way through a handful and heard the sound of Daryl’s crossbow dropping into the grass, a knife being unsheathed, the sick thud of its blade sinking into flesh. He spared a glance for the hunter, glad to see Daryl was giving him space, pulling half the walkers off to one side so they didn’t get trapped in the middle of all of them. Rick went back to work.

There were only a couple left when Rick swung the staff at the head of what had once been a beefy man well over six feet and he heard a sharp _crack!_ The end of the staff flew off, a lethal point just missing Daryl’s shoulder and spearing through the ribcage of a stumbling walker.

“Watch it!” Daryl hissed and Rick shrugged an apology. He jammed what was left of the staff, more of a spear now, up into the neck of the big walker, twisting as he did. But the momentum was too much and the heel of his boot caught on a stone, sending him tumbling backwards. Luckily the grass was soft but the damn walker was sliding down the spear, teeth still gnashing as Rick tried to adjust his angle. But he couldn’t get it and just as the walker’s face was inches from his he had to whip his knife up to take it in the ear, spilling black, rot-choked blood all over his own face.

“Rick!” he heard Andrea scream and Daryl’s quick, “Hush it!” Then hands were pulling the dead walker off him and he could breathe again.

“Eugh.” He complained, swiping a hand over his face and glad at least that he’d remembered to keep his mouth shut. Daryl was staring down at him, breathing hard. Rick scraped his nails across his lips to try and clear the blood. “Shawn?” he turned to find Amy crouched beside the kid as he stared at his hand, his bloody, mangled hand.

“Shit.” Rick hissed and scrambled to his feet. He stopped just long enough to pry the hatchet from the dead walker’s face and dropped into a squat beside the boy. Up close it wasn’t as bad as Rick had feared. The tips of Shawn’s pinkie and ring fingers were a mess of torn up flesh, the nails ripped off and bone showing pale and almost iridescent through the blood.

“They bit him!” Amy whispered, horrified. “Jesus Christ, they bit him!”

“The rock.” Rick commanded, pointing to a flat stone by Daryl’s boot. The hunter grabbed it up and knelt beside Rick. “Hold him.” Rick instructed and Daryl’s face pinched. He took Shawn by the back of the neck, slipping his other arm under the boy’s armpit and clamping his hand across Shawn’s chest. Daryl jerked his chin and Rick didn’t waste any time. He placed Shawn’s hand on the rock, pinning his wrist down and folding is good fingers safely under his palm. One quick strike of metal on stone and Shawn’s shredded fingers flopped lifelessly into the grass.

“Jesus Christ!” Amy repeated and behind him Rick heard Andrea retching. He looked up, catching Darl’s eye and getting a grim nod.

“Get him up.” Rick said and he and Daryl hauled the boy to his feet. As the turned towards the fence Rick caught sight of Beth and Hershel at the gate, drawn by the commotion. Hershel’s face was pale and very still. He looked at the hatchet in Rick’s hand, the blood all down his front, and started to shake.

“Shit!” Rick hissed. He shoved Shawn’s weight onto Daryl’s shoulder and ran for it.

“Daddy?” Beth squeaked as Hershel stumbled forward, dropping to his knees in the dirt. Rick skidded to his own in front of the old man, tossing the hatchet aside to grip his shoulders. The way the blood on his hands seeped into Hershel’s crisp white shirt felt like a metaphor.

“Rick?” Hershel gasped weakly. He blinked a half dozen times and Rick gripped him tighter.

“Hershel?” Rick called. “You alright?”

“Liar.” Hershel whispered and Rick’s heart jumped. When the old vet blinked again and looked up there was shock in his eyes. “He said ‘liar’. And then-“ he choked on a sob and Rick dragged him into a hug.

The vet returned it, his arms trembling and his beard scratching at Rick’s bloody neck. “My girls. My girls. They were screaming.” Hershel muttered.

“We got ‘em out. He didn’t get either of ‘em.” Rick told him. “He died and we made it out.” He didn’t mention losing Beth, knew that Hershel would understand once the memories settled.

“Beth, honey!” Hershel turned, gathering his daughter into his arms. She put her head to his chest and cried. Daryl and Andrea reached them, Shawn slung between them with his eyes glazed over and his bloody hand hooked around Daryl’s neck. Rick leaned forward, tugging on Hershel’s shoulder. He hated to break up their reunion but there wasn’t the time right now.

“Hershel, you’ve got to get Shawn inside. He needs you.”

“Shawn!” Hershel’s face paled as he turned to face his step-son. “What happened?”

“He’s out of it.” Daryl grunted. “Practically fed himself to the damn walkers.”

“I died.” Shawn slurred, looking up at Hershel with too-wide eyes. “I _died_ , Hershel.” Hershel gripped the boy’s wrist and stared at the bloody stumps where his fingers used to be.

“Got the fingers off but you need to have a look.” Rick told him.

Hershel’s whole body shuddered once and then the sharp-eyed focus Rick knew so well was back. “Beth, get inside and set up a tray.” He barked. She nodded and scurried away, sparing a single worried glance at her brother. “Get Maggie to help.” Hershel called after her. “Amy, you’re going to help me clean the wound. Rick and Daryl, you’re going to hold him down. I don’t have enough sedative and if he’s not in his right mind I can’t trust him to hold still. Everybody hop to!”

It took nearly two hours for Hershel to pull the stumps of bone and tendon out of Shawn’s fingers and sew his skin neatly over the knuckles. All the medical gear he had stockpiled and that Rick had brought from the hospital meant that in the end Shawn’s wound was shockingly neat. Hershel gave him hefty doses of penicillin and NSAIDs to fight the fever and infection. Through it all Shawn stared glassy-eyed at the ceiling, only twitching against Rick and Daryl’s hold when Hershel slipped his scalpel into his knuckles. When it was over Shawn fell into a fitful sleep, his right hand wadded with bandages and Maggie and Beth sitting watch at his bedside. Glenn, who had been waiting at the door since they’d come in, immediately grabbed Hershel up into a hug and Rick could see tears in both their eyes. They exchanged some quiet words and Hershel cupped Glenn’s head in his hand. He pulled his watch from his pocket and pressed it into Glenn’s palm.

“It belongs with you.” He said and Glenn hugged him again.

When Glenn excused himself, wiping at his eyes as he headed out to take over watch from T-Dog Rick followed Hershel into the sitting room where they had talked with Carl on that first day. Daryl tried to slip out the front door on the way by. Hershel called him back.

Rick still needed to clean himself up but as Hershel pulled him in for another hug he couldn’t have cared less about the gore caking his arms.

“Thank god.” Hershel murmured and Rick clapped his shoulder a little harder. “Thank god my girls didn’t let me kick you out.”

Rick had to laugh at that. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.” He assured the old vet as he let go and stepped back. Hershel’s candle-warm smile washed over him and Rick had to close his eyes against the ache in his throat.

“Daryl!” the old vet turned to the hunter and Daryl flinched back. Hershel ignored the way Daryl’s face tightened and his shoulders bunched, stepping forward to offer his hand. Daryl stared at it a moment, then cautiously slipped his own hand into Hershel’s. Hershel gripped it in both of his and beamed at the hunter. “It’s good to see you, son.” He said and Daryl blinked.

“Ain’t yer son.” He muttered but Hershel just smiled.

“You two are goin’ to scout the prison.” He said, lowering himself into his chair. Rick noticed the way he kept flexing the toes of the foot he’d lost before inside his boot and smiled.

Daryl shot Rick a glance and Rick nodded. He hadn’t thought about it really, but of course he’d be taking Daryl along. “And I figure Glenn and Merle.” He said.

Hershel chuckled. “How things change.” He shook his head and Rick grinned. Then Hershel’s eyes slid back to Daryl and he said, “and how they stay the same.”

“We’ve got to get the prison.” Rick told him and Hershel nodded.

“As soon as we can.” He agreed. “The longer Lori has a safe place to stay the better off she and Judith will be. Ya’ll should set out in the morning. But maybe you should take Shane instead of Glenn.”

“Why?” Rick asked.

“Shane needs to prove to himself he can be trusted. And you’ll need to check on the Governor. Merle’s the safest person to send to him. If he does remember then Merle was at least on his side at one point. If the Governor recognizes him Merle might be able to convince him he doesn’t remember anything. But if he shows up with one of us…” he shrugged.

“Shane’s a new face.” Rick nodded. “And one that the old Merle might have teamed up with. Strong, loud.”

“A worthwhile recruit for Woodbury.” Hershel agreed. “The pair of them are safer going in there than any of us.”

“What if he does remember?” Rick asked. “What if he remembers what Merle did at the end and decides he’s a risk to keep alive?”

“My brother ain’t going on this thing just ta get hisself killed.” Daryl growled.

“I’m not suggesting they walk up to the gate and ask to come visiting.” Hershel said. “He knows the Governor’s tactics, where the lookouts are. And if he gets caught he has the best chance of getting out if it’s a stranger with him.”

“Makes sense. I’ll run it by Merle, make sure he can work with Shane.” Rick said, shooting Daryl a placating glance. The hunter shewed his lip but didn’t object. “If he’s all good we’ll leave at first light.”

“Good. We’ll get everything here ready to move as soon as you’re back.”

Rick nodded, smiling down at the old vet. “It’s good to have you back, Hershel.” He said.

Hershel shook his head. “It’s good to be back, Rick.”


	16. Leftovers

Rick tapped his fingers on the wheel and tried not to get lost in the memories of a hundred days rolling down this very road with Daryl riding shotgun. They were a dozen miles from the prison, the orange-red carpet of pine needles thick on the abandoned road and the air strangely heavy around them. It had been since Shane and Merle had split off to circle Woodbury half an hour back.

“Now you listen ta me, Lawdog,” Merle had drawled as he picked a few guns from the arsenal in the back of T-Dog’s SUV.“If you find the guilt is just too crushin’ ta go on an’ ya gotta get yourself a big tragic moment ‘a sacrifice, I’d appreciate it if ya didn’t stand too close ta me. Ol’ Righty’s back an’ itchin’ fer some action,” he’d wiggled the fingers of his right hand in an obscene gesture. “I got some real detailed plans for me an’ Blondie once we get back ta the farm an’ I’m gon’ be real pissed if ya fuck ‘em up bein’ some tragic hero.” Shane had just rolled his eyes and climbed behind the wheel of the sedan they’d found on the side of the road, sending Rick a little salute through the window. Merle had shot Daryl a finger gun and slid in the other side. “You take care ‘a my baby brother, Friendly, or I’ll whoop yer ass.” And with a waggle of his eyebrows and a flick of Daryl’s middle finger they’d headed off.

Rick had watched them go with a tightness in his stomach that he couldn’t quite shake. Shane was still unstable, had barely said two words together. But Hershel was right. Shane needed to prove to himself that he could still be part of their group, could still protect them and do what needed to be done. Rick couldn’t help him with that. So as the glint off the sedan’s roof disappeared around a bend Rick had climbed back into the SUV and set off for the prison.

The silence inside the car was miles away from the easy peace Rick and Daryl had spent hours - days sometimes - in back before. Back in that other lifetime when Daryl had known Rick so well he would hand him a water bottle before Rick even knew he was thirsty. But now it felt like the hunter was just waiting to breathe out, wound so tight the wrong word or look from Rick would send him flying out of the car and never coming back. The longer they drove the more Rick’s throat hurt as he tried to clamp down on the urge to scream.

“What?” Daryl croaked finally and Rick nearly jerked the car off the road. Well, maybe Daryl could still read him a little bit.

“Nothin’,” Rick lied. Daryl glared at him with that tilt to his head he got when he wasn’t in a mood to let a damn thing go and Rick sighed. “You ain’t gonna like it.” He warned. Daryl didn’t blink. Rick hung an elbow out the window, tapping his fingers faster on the wheel. “I miss you.” He admitted. “I know how dumb that sounds, you’re right here, but…” he shrugged.

He could feel Daryl’s eyes on the side of his face but the hunter didn’t say a word.

“That,” Rick twitched his fingers in Daryl’s direction, “that, right there. Used to be I knew what you were thinkin’, whether you were about to tell me I was an idiot or laugh at me or tell me an idea wasn’t quite as piss-poor as I was makin’ it out to be. But now,” he shrugged again. “I just miss that.”

“We were friends.” It wasn’t quite a question but Rick nodded anyway.

“Yeah. Didn’t start out that way but yeah. Then family. You were my brother.”

Daryl’s eyebrows bunched. “Like Shane?” he asked, a tiny sliver of disgust in his tone.

Rick snorted. Daryl had never liked Shane, not in either timeline. “Nah. Not like Shane.” He wasn’t sure how to explain it, but Daryl was different. ”Shane and I grew up together,” he tried, “been livin’ in each others houses since we were six years old. Same teachers, same friends, same football team, same job, same everything. Two peas in a pod, even if he was louder and more of an asshole. That ain’t how it was with you an’ me.”

Daryl started chewing on his thumb again, finally letting his eyes slip from Rick to stare out the window. “How was it?” he asked and Rick could barely believe it.

“We were ‘bout as different as two people could get when we met in that quarry.” Rick remembered. He couldn’t help the little smile that spread across his face. “You were angry at just about everythin’ and I was scared shitless and trying to figure out how to do the right thing in a world that just didn’t work the same anymore. But eventually, after a whole lot of shit and blood and running for our lives, it turned out we weren’t that different. Or we were, I guess, but it didn’t matter. We just fit together. I could rely on you, wasn’t even a question. And you trusted me. I know - and don’t hit me for sayin’ this or we’re gonna crash the damn car - but I know that ain’t easy for you.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Daryl tense just that little extra bit but thankfully he didn’t level a fresh glare at Rick over the center console.

“You’re the most trustworthy man I ever met.” Rick told him. “Loyal. Fierce with it. Takin’ care of Judith an’ Carl was like a religion to you. You took care of all of us. Not just with your bow or your knives. You got the biggest damn heart I’ve ever seen. An’ I know you don’t like hearin’ shit like that. But it’s true.”

They rode in silence another mile and Rick started to get distracted by every familiar pothole and tree. The rusted-out sign post missing its sign, that patch of swamp they’d stumbled ass-first into when they got caught in a rain storm.

“How did I go?” Daryl’s murmur snapped Rick back into the present and he glanced at the hunter. Daryl was still gazing out the window, picking at a fresh tag of dead skin he’d chewed loose at the base of his nail. “This future ‘a yours. Y’said we all died. How did I go?”

Rick wanted to close his eyes against it. He could still feel Daryl’s breath across his skin, the press of his nose into his forehead as the last of Rick slipped away.

“You, uh…” Rick shook his head to clear the lump in his throat. “You didn’t.” Daryl’s sharp eyes fell on him again and Rick couldn’t stop the tears budding in his eyes like the damn fool he was. “You were the last one left.”

Daryl froze, his thumb forgotten between his teeth and Rick’s heart just about hammering out of his chest until finally Daryl grunted a “huh” and looked back out the window. Rick trained his eyes on the road, searching for anything to stop the fast-forward replay of those last minutes in Alexandria from looping in his head over and over again.

_You dumb sonovabitch. You gonna go and die on me?_

_Ain’t no point, now._

_Bullshit._

“Hey!” Daryl’s voice was sharp as he tapped Rick’s arm with his knuckles, pointing ahead to the side of the road. They were a mile or so out and Rick slowed the car to get a look at where Daryl was pointing. It was a tree on the other side of the ditch, a single maple in a stand of old shagbarks, a patch about a foot square and five or so feet off the ground shaved down to the wood. And smack in the middle of the bare wood was a clumsily painted bright pink cat. Rick hit the brakes and just stared. The cat had purple and green splotches of spray paint dripping down its smiling face and he felt his stomach swoop.

“Michonne.” He breathed and Daryl glanced at him. “She had this damn ugly cat thing, got it when… It’s her. She’s here!”

“There’s a trail tag back there a ways.” Daryl said, squinting into the trees. “Looks new.”

“Let’s check it out,” Rick said. He pulled the car off as far into the ditch as he could manage and they jumped out. Rick grabbed a rifle and Daryl his crossbow and they headed into the woods, following the little smudge of pink. They stopped under the boughs of a thick old hemlock and Rick pulled at the flashing tied around the tip of the highest bough he could reach. When it slithered off he could see there was writing on it. “RG North MH.” He read aloud. “She left us directions!”

Daryl raised an eyebrow, impressed, and motioned off to the north. Rick trotted ahead, making sure to pay attention despite the eagerness in his step. They crept quick and quiet through the brush, keeping their eyes peeled for anything that might mark the way. There was no more flashing but a few hundred yards further they came across a shredded bit of blue-green tarp wedged into a rotting barbed-wire fence half-buried in leaves. Rick recognized it. There had been a camp not far from the prison, just an old hunting cabin that someone had tried to make into a home after the world ended. The roof had fallen in and someone had spread a giant tarp over the hole to try and patch it. They’d raided the place the first summer at the prison and found a bunch of guns and a single, lonely walker melting into the floorboards.

He picked the little shred of tarp up and sure enough when he unfolded it there was a pink dot spray-painted in the middle and the letters RG NW MH. He turned to the northwest and kept on. There were three more scraps of tarp turning them this way and that through the woods until after a while they came up over a little rise and found themselves looking down on a clearing where a massive old beech tree had fallen, its root system a tangled canopy of mud and leaves. And in its shadow was a dun tent with two jawless and armless walkers chained by their necks out in front.

“The hell?” Daryl hissed but Rick felt tears in his eyes again. With a last look around to make sure there were no walkers lurking he let himself drop down the hill into the hollow, whistling low and sharp. After a second a whistle came back and the tent’s flap flipped open to reveal a beautifully familiar face.

“Michonne!” he breathed and her wide smile was nearly enough to bring him to his knees.

“Rick!” Then she was in his arms and he really was crying.

“Figured you’d turn up eventually.” She murmured and he kissed her temple.

“How long?” he asked, pushing her back to get a good look at her. She had her sword on her back and a dusty maroon scarf holding back her dreads. She looked strong, healthy. And so damn young. “How long since you remembered?”

“About six weeks.” She said, taking his hands in hers. He could tell by the way her eyes drifted over him, the way her smile twitched at his beard, that she was doing a similar assessment.

Rick’s belly flipped as he tried to remember if she’d ever given him a clear timeline of her life before the prison. “Andre?” he asked and her grin immediately spread wider.

“He’s napping. Would you like to meet him?” she asked. Rick’s knees shook with relief as he nodded stupidly. Michonne glanced over his shoulder and her eyes flashed. “Daryl!” The hunter was hanging back, eyeing the walker sentinels warily. As she took two quick steps towards him his crossbow jumped up and she stopped dead. “Daryl?”

Rick stepped between the two, gently pushing Daryl’s crossbow back down and tilting his eyebrows at the hunter. _You okay?_ Daryl flicked his eyes back to the walkers and frowned. Rick couldn’t blame him for that, he supposed. “Uh, not everyone remembers. Yet.” Rick told Michonne. She narrowed her eyes but nodded.

“I’m Michonne. We’re friends,” she told him and Daryl squinted at her. She just let him look and when his eyes slid to the walkers again she huffed a little laugh. “Leftover from last time,” She explained. “I went a little crazy for a while but it meant I figured out how to be invisible. They can’t bite, can’t scratch. And the other walkers don’t pay attention to us. Easiest cover when you’re on your own.”

Daryl chewed the corner of his mouth for a moment before he nodded. “Smart,” he said and she grinned.

A whistle sounded out behind the camp and Rick’s hand flew to his holster. Michonne waved him back and whistled a response. Two sets of feet came tromping through the leaves and suddenly Sasha and Tyrese were there, the big man carrying his hammer and his sister hefting a machine gun. Daryl’s bow snapped back up but Rick shot him a smile.

“Rick!” Sasha’s not-a-shout was more joyful than Rick could remember hearing in a long time. She swung her gun around to her back and stepped up to pull him in for a hug. Over her shoulder Rick could see Tyrese looking bemused but not unhappy and as he stepped back from Sasha he shot her a questioning look.

“Tyrese doesn’t remember but I told him everything.” She said, guessing his train of thought. Rick winced and thanked anyone listening that Tyrese hadn’t gone off the deep end like Otis. There would have been little short of a gunshot the two women could do to stop the giant of a man if he had. “We got here as quick as we could. Ty, this is Rick.”

“Good to meet you.” Tyrese nodded, then chuckled. “Well, again. I guess.”

“Daryl!” Sasha beamed and Daryl gave her a nod. Rick saw the moment it registered with her that Daryl didn’t remember. She shrugged it off and turned back to Rick. “The others?”

“At Hershel’s farm.” He said and started rattling off names of the people she would know. “Carl, Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Hershel, Carol, Merle-“

“Merle? Merle Dixon is with you?” Sasha’s eyes bugged slightly and Daryl tensed but Rick just chuckled.

“He’s turned over a new leaf.” He explained. “It’s weird as hell but it’s working. He was pretty damn pleased when I told him you made it.” He grinned at Michonne and she pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“He was struggling, at the end.” She allowed.

“Mumma?” A little voice piped in the dimness of the tent and they all turned to find a heart-shaped face poking out into the sun.

“Hey, Peanut!” Michonne cooed, dropping into a crouch and gathering the little boy in her arms. He was maybe two, with a shock of curly brown hair and enormous eyes. He stared at Rick and Daryl, clearly trying to figure out what to make of the two newcomers as Michonne bounced him on her hip. “This here is Mr. Rick and Mr. Daryl. They’re friends of Mumma’s. Can you say ‘hi’?”

Andre turned his head into her neck, peeking back with a shy smile to give a little wave.

“Hi,” he giggled. 

“He’s beautiful.” Rick murmured, reaching forward to cup the boy’s curly head in his palm. He planted another kiss on Michonne’s cheek and she leaned into it. “I’m so glad.” He whispered.

“Yeah,” she sighed, swaying her son back and forth. “I’m just glad I remembered before it happened all over again.”

“Your boyfriend?” Rick glanced at the walkers but they both looked like they had been white when they were alive.

“I left him there,” she said. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t forgive him. Even though he hadn’t done it yet. Besides…” she stared at the nearest walker and Rick got it. She’d dragged her boyfriend’s mutilated body across half of the south that first time. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stand looking at the man whole and alive again either. “No, it was just me and Andre on the road for a little while. Then I got here and Sasha and Tyrese showed up not long after.”

“Andrea’s alive.” Rick told her and Michonne froze.

“So’s the Governor.” She said at last.

“He remember?” Daryl asked and Michonne shrugged. Rick could see the flash of worry for his brother skip across Daryl’s face.

“We didn’t get close enough to tell. If he does he’s not going to want to see me here.”

“Merle and Shane are headed there now, doin’ a sweep,” Rick said. “We’ve got to take the prison but when we do we know he won’t be far behind, especially if he remembers how it went last time.”

“Shane?” Sasha repeated. “Wasn’t that your partner? The one who…” she left it unfinished and Rick nodded.

“Yeah. A lot’s changed.” He glanced around the camp. “You got much here?”

“Nah.” Sasha kicked at a stump they must have been using as a chair. “We were talking about heading out on a run tomorrow but it looks like you showed up just in time.”

“Good. Get what you need and let’s head back to the car. Sasha, take point.”

She grinned. “Yessir. But first,” she ducked behind the little tent and came up with a huge backpack, the kind that used to be used for mountain climbing and serious hikes. She reached in the top and pulled out four zip-tied bundles of crossbow bolts. “Didn’t know what size or anything but I figured from the price tag these had to be worth grabbing.” She said, offering them to Daryl. “There’s ninety-six there. Should last a few weeks.” She grinned and Daryl huffed.

“Thanks.” He grunted, examining the bundles.

“Will they work?” Sasha asked and Daryl nodded.

“Yeah. Should be good.”

Sasha swung the pack up on her back and buckled the strap around her ribs. “Good.” They were on their way in just a few minutes. Rick fell into step beside Michonne while Daryl and Tyrese took up the rear. Andre was lolling sleepily on his mother’s shoulder and Rick was fiercely happy for her. “He was always a quiet baby.” She told him, smiling down at the boy. “Getting quieter now.”

“Good. We’ll keep him safe. We’ve got lots of practice with that.”

“Your wife?” Michonne looked up.

Rick gave her a sad smile. “Alive, but we’re not… I couldn’t either. And Judith’s comin’.”

Michonne nodded. “Good. How’s Carl?”

“Alright. He remembers everything. A lot of them do, now.” He gave her a rundown of who remembered and how, what had been happening since he woke up in the hospital. He could tell the others were listening so he spoke louder. By the time they got back to the car they were pretty much all caught up.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the prison.” Michonne told him as they loaded what few supplies she and the siblings had and piled into the SUV. Tyrese took shotgun because it was pretty much the only place the big man would actually fit, which meant Daryl got in the back with the girls. Immediately Michonne placed Andre in Daryl’s lap and the boy flopped out like a dead fish, snoring softly. Rick tried to hide his chuckle at the shocked look on Daryl’s face. “Been here a month or so. Governor’s men came to check it out about two weeks back but they haven’t bothered again. If he does remember he knows we’re not there yet. If he doesn’t he’s probably written it off as a lost cause like he did the first time.”

“How does it look?” Rick asked, pulling the car back onto the road.

“Walkers everywhere.” She said. “Otherwise it looks deserted.”

“The fences?”

“All still intact except that place where the wall brought them down and we got in last time,” said Sasha.

“Good.” Rick nodded. He’d need to see it for himself, just to be sure, but with Sasha, Tyrese and Michonne they could definitely take the place. “We’ve got more firepower than last time and lots of supplies. If we can set some traps outside the fences to make sure his tanks can’t get through we should be okay.”

He drove them up around the back of the prison to where the train tracks crossed the road and pulled over again. As he hopped out he did a quick sweep of the woods for walkers or Woodbury spies and when he was sure it was all clear he waved at Daryl and Michonne to follow him. Sasha just nodded and leaned back on the car, her machine gun comfortably in her hands. Tyrese settled next to her with Andre cradled against his wide chest. He looked up at a flock of redwing blackbirds that skipped about merrily in the branches overhead with a smile. Rick had missed the gentle giant of a man and it was good to see him smile again.

They followed the tracks the same as Rick and Daryl had so many years ago until they came to a break in the woods where the tracks crested a ridge and looked down over the yard. It was so familiar, that swoop of adrenaline in his gut. They could do this. They would have a place. He turned his grin on Daryl and Daryl just shook his head.

“You always been a crazy son of a bitch?” he asked and Michonne chuckled.

“There.” Rick pointed to the corner of the fence nearest the little creek where they’d made their way in the first time. “We cut through there, run along to the towers. We can get any that come to the fence through the chainlink while the rest of us take out the others with rifles from the towers. We’ve got enough ammo to skip the run to the gate this time, just get them all out here and get ‘em down. Then we can group up and take the courtyards and the building. It’ll take us three days. Hershel can stay behind with Beth and Lori this time, no need to risk them.”

“You sure about this?” Daryl asked.

“We did it once, we’ll do it again. And better.” Rick nodded. Daryl chewed his lip as he looked out over the field of walkers. Then he hefted his crossbow and jerked a nod.

“A’right.” He said and Rick felt a swell of pride that the hunter trusted him.

“C’mon.” Rick said and led them back into the woods towards the path down the hill. They made a circle around the prison, keeping an eye out for anyone else sniffing around the fences but found no one. They found the break in the fence where Tyrese and Sasha had come through but it looked like the pile of bricks crushing the chainlink were too high and unstable for walkers to come through in any numbers. They had been a bitch to clean up the first time but they had the numbers and the skills to fix it this time around. They could take down the fencing at the farm and bring it here, make barricades to make sure any snipers in the woods wouldn’t have easy shots. They would have to find a way to reinforce the gates, maybe some kind of retractable bridge so no one could get close enough to crash through? But so many times they’d had to haul ass through those gates… He shook his head, shelving the thought for now. They could dig trenches outside the fences so nothing could roll up easy, maybe divert the creek. The prison had a well and Rick was sure they could figure out how to get a power system going. Five years dealing with the solar grid in Alexandria had given him a crash course in that sort of thing and he was sure Maggie would remember, too. Once they found Abraham’s group Eugene could help them set even more up. They’d be off the ground running.

* * * * *

They waited at the crossroads where they’d parted ways with Shane and Merle for a few hours, Sasha and Michonne filling them in on the adventures they’d been on since remembering. Sasha, smart as ever, had raided dozens of sporting goods and gun stores on the way to the prison. With Tyrese’s help she’d hidden caches of supplies all over the place, choosing places that most folks would overlook. A recycling center, a storage facility, schools and churches. She’d kept a careful map of every place she’d hidden supplies and opened it up to show Rick and Daryl.

“There was a nursery school here.” She said, pointing to a town a few hours south. “Tons of baby stuff for Judith. A couple garden supply stores here but I didn’t go in. Too big with just the two of us, too easy to get trapped. We found a bunch of burned out military camps and that sort of thing and that came in handy, for sure. This is where I got Daryl’s bolts.” She pointed to a town further north. There’s a giant hunting outfitter kind of store that I figured we had to risk checking out. It was mostly picked over but there’s boxes and boxes of bolts, gun cleaning stuff, plenty still in there that people don’t realize is useful yet.”

“This is fantastic, Sasha.” Rick told her.

“I know,” she grinned. Having her brother back had lifted some of the darkness that had lingered with her those last years and Rick was glad to see it. He knew that eventually she would turn her efforts to finding Bob, too, and he would be there to back her up.

“Look,” Tyrese pointed through the windshield. Rick looked up to see the sedan rolling toward them. He climbed out of the car, drawing his gun just in case and peering through the late afternoon sunshine to try and see who was driving. When he recognized Merle and Shane he holstered it again. They rolled to a stop and immediately Merle leapt out of the car, a broad smile on his face. Michonne stepped out onto the road with Andre back on her hip and Merle’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“Well hey there, Little Miss Samurai!” he drawled and Rick could see he was genuinely pleased.

“Dixon.” She nodded at him.

He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Rick tol’ me ya made it out back then, got the Governor in the end.”

“Last I saw him he was bleeding to death.” Michonne shrugged.

“Can’t say that don’t bring a spring ta my step.” Merle told her and she huffed a little laugh. “An’ who is this?” Merle bent down, hands on his knees, to grin right in Andre’s face. The little boy lit up as he reached out to grab at Merle’s stubble-rough cheek, tugging and slapping happily as the man chuckled.

“My son.” Michonne told him, seeming amused in spite of herself. “Andre.”

“Well ain’t he just pretty as a picture?” Merle said, tapping the boy’s cheek with two fingers and getting a giggle in return. “Damn, Samurai, I should ‘a figured you’d make pretty babies!”

Daryl rolled his eyes but Michonne chose to ignore that comment. “You with us this time?” she cocked an eyebrow at Merle.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, standing up straight with a sharp nod. “And I brought y’all some good news.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Ran inta an old buddy ‘a mine.” Merle said, stretching an arm out across the roof of the sedan. “Real prick named Martinez.”

“I remember him.” Sasha frowned. “He was the head of the Governor’s fake military.”

“That’s the guy.” Merle agreed cheerfully. “We was about a mile out and came up on him an’ this other guy doin’ a patrol. Gov’nor used ta like ta show the townsfolk he was takin’ security serious so he’d send out a handful a guys ta piss around in the woods an’ come back sayin’ how many walkers they’d killed. Kept the weak folk scared ‘a leavin’.”

“He recognize you?” Michonne asked.

“Not at first.” Merle said. “Started in on the whole join-the-team pitch. ‘We got safety, we could use a few good men, blah blah blah’. Then all’v ‘a sudden he goes real still for a second and comes up ragin’ and spittin’ and flies at me. Lawdog took out the other fella, knocked him out cold. I got Martinez.”

“Shit.” Rick hissed.

“Don’t worry. They’s dead. Ain’t gonna go tellin’ tales.”

“So the Governor’s going to come lookin’ and find two of his men dead?” Rick demanded. Shit. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted Merle with a stealth mission.

Merle chuckled. “Give a guy a little credit!” he said. “Lawdog ain’t killed the first guy. So I took a lesson from our Churchmouse. I know what she did ta her husband.” Rick raised an eyebrow and Merle grinned. “Yer boy here just about panicked when I got down in the dirt and started bitin’ the other fella.”

Michonne’s eyes widened and Sasha pursed her mouth in disgust. Daryl didn’t seem that phased.

Shane grimaced but scratched at the back of his head. “It was a good idea.” He admitted. And if he was turning green around the gills Rick couldn’t really blame him. “He bit that one a few times and then he took Martinez’s gun to shoot him in the back of the head. Then he bit Martinez, too, and shot him up under the chin. Left the gun in his hand and we ran for it.”

“But not before we got us some good intel on what’s goin’ on inside Woodbury.” Merle told them proudly. “Governor don’t seem ta remember nothin’, not yet anyway. But Martinez said he ain’t never seen no little girl with the man so my guess is his daughter already got bit. Anyone finds those two - an’ they will ‘cause he’s got to send out a token search party and nobody’s stupid enough to miss ‘em that close to the walls - they’s just gonna think they got caught by walkers and ended it ‘fore they could get turned inta one themselves.” Merle spread his hands like he was expecting some sort of applause.

Rick gave him a nod, at least. “Alright. Well I guess that’s pretty good, considering. Well done, boys.” Merle shot him an ironic little bow and Shane just frowned. “Let’s all get back to the farm. We’ve got a move to get on the road.”


	17. Compromised

They swung a few hours out of their path to hit a couple of Sasha’s caches. The first was a stash of ammo, ropes and other camping gear, and winter clothing she’d hidden in the loft of a half-burned-out stable. They cleared it out in just a couple minutes, Michonne climbing up a rickety metal ladder to toss everything down. The other was in a root cellar of a burned-out farm house. She’d locked it up with a rusty padlock she’d found inside that Daryl took one look at and scoffed.

“Ain’t no use tryin’ ta pick that trash.” He said and pulled the hatchet Rick had kept from the farm’s porch from the wheel well. Everyone turned their faces away as he slammed the butt of it against the lock. It snapped after a couple clean hits and Daryl threw the door open. They left Tyrese and Merle to guard the cars and Rick was glad to get away from the sight of Tyrese with Andre in a sling across his chest. He was so, so glad for Michonne but it made his own ribs ache for his daughter. Michonne saw the flash in his eye as he let them skim over Tyrese and reached out to brush his arm in comfort. He nodded his thanks and followed Sasha down into the cellar.

“Guns and ammo under the quilt in the back corner. Canned food under the milk crates.” Sasha said in the clipped, efficient tone she’d always taken on runs. Rick smiled and bumped her shoulder, getting a quick grin in return. He kicked one of the milk crates upright and began filling it with the cans Sasha had hidden underneath. Michonne came to help, filling her own crate quick as a flash. There was a pretty good selection of stuff, even some jars of pasta sauce that had Rick practically drooling on the floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had marinara.

“Never even liked the stuff.” He muttered to himself. Michonne grinned at him and stacked up their crates, hoisting them easily onto her hip and heading back up. Rick thought of the years on the road, the lean times when a place like this had brought some of them to tears. And Sasha had done more, so much more. With a shake of his head Rick got to work on the next pile. Daryl and Shane were ferrying guns out and Rick caught Sasha’s arm as he went to hand the next load out the door, planting a kiss on her temple.

It had been years since they’d had to say ‘thank you’ out loud in their family. Too many years of bleeding and scraping and scavenging and nearly dying to bother with the words anymore. It was just what they did, as Daryl had said so long ago, to take care of one another every chance they got. Looking out for supplies, standing watch a little longer, everything they did to keep each other alive and never needed to say thank you for. But they always showed it. A little touch, a nod, a kiss on the cheek or a hug. Moments of gentleness in a world of violence. It was something he missed more and more, now.

Back at the start he would never have touched a woman who wasn’t his wife that way. There was nothing sexual about the way he touched Maggie or Carol, Michonne or Sasha, but it was intimate. More intimate than anyone would have allowed back at the start. Since he’d gotten back to the quarry he’d had to hold himself back so many times from touching Glenn or T-Dog, brushing Glenn’s hair back or gripping T-Dog’s arm. But the more people remembered the more they enveloped each other back into that family space where boundaries meant next to nothing. 

Sasha gave him one of her rare soft smiles and he leaned out into the sun. Michonne’s fingers brushed Rick’s as she took the crate from him. He’d missed this. Missed their family. And there were more to find. He missed Tara’s fist bumps and no-bullshit attitude, Rosita’s sharp wit and brute force. He missed Aaron’s stubborn kindness, his unshakeable faith in people. Hell, he even missed Abraham’s creative cursing. He told himself as they cleared out the last of Sasha’s stash that he would find them all, would take the prison so they could have a safe place to search from, to bring them home to.

The others took their supplies up the rickety wooden stairs and Rick made one last sweep to make sure there wasn’t anything else useful. There was an old-fashioned wooden tool box sitting in the dust beside the little staircase and Rick squatted down to have a look. It was mostly empty, just a bunch of crumpled and moldy instruction manuals, a rusted-out adjustable wrench and a hammer missing one half of the claw. Rick riffled through the manuals just to be sure and found a white and red packet still wrapped in plastic. The corners were just beginning to yellow under the wrapper but it looked dry. There was a pink post it note still stuck to the front that said in a loopy, feminine-looking script: _you promised you’d quit._

Rick smiled and pocketed his find, leaving the note tucked back in the toolbox. He headed out into the sun and slid back behind the wheel of the SUV. Tyrese had chosen to ride with Merle and Shane for a while and Rick couldn’t blame him. The sedan’s trunk was stuffed full but the SUV had taken most of the supplies, full to bursting with all the gear and passengers. The big man would have had quite a time jamming himself in even in the front seat. With her brother sprawling happily in the back of the sedan Sasha took shotgun beside Rick and Michonne and Daryl slid into the back. Andre gabbled happily at the pair of them and Rick had to focus to keep his eyes on the road and not watch Daryl’s confusion in the rear-view. The easy way Michonne had just handed Andre over to him a few times now was clearly freaking him out but Rick could tell he was still pleased. How could he not be? The guy absolutely loved kids and Andre was one cute little kid.

“Got some real military grade body armour about half a day’s drive southwest.” Sasha said as they passed the turn-off for the highway. Rick blinked, trying to get his brain back on track. “Once we drop all this stuff at the farm we can head straight back out in the morning, grab that, and get ready to take the prison.”

Rick nodded. “Sounds good. You gonna take Glenn or Michonne or both?”

Sasha tapped the window with her knuckle, thinking. “Glenn and I oughta be able to handle it. We aren’t going to take anything new, not unless it’s a real goldmine. And he’s got good judgement.”

“Thanks.” Michonne huffed from the back seat and Sasha shook her head.

“You know what I mean.” She said. Michonne just raised an eyebrow and wiped a bit of spittle from Andre’s chin. The boy was busy digging his little fists into Daryl’s pockets, searching for anything that would fit in his mouth, apparently. Rick smiled, remembering that stage.

The drive was pretty uneventful and as they neared the farm Rick told them the general layout, where the most important supplies were stored and they started to make a plan to pack up. By the time they were pulling onto the Greene’s land the sun had gone down and Andre was asleep sprawled across Michonne’s lap again. As they crested the hill where they’d first seen Beth Rick’s eyes widened.

“Shit.” He breathed.

The fence was down.

He slammed on the breaks and leapt out, grabbing his hatchet from the wheel well and stuffing a handgun down the back of his belt as he ran. He smelled smoke. Heard groans and rattles from the dozens of walkers that ringed the farm. Too many. The crackle of burning wood. He heard Michonne and Sasha scrambling behind him, the slam of the sedan’s doors and the click of Daryl’s crossbow being drawn, and kept running.

A dozen dead bodies littered the tall grass in front of the gate, bullet holes telling the story of the fight. They looked like they’d either been alive or freshly dead when they’d been taken down. Most of the fence was still standing, thank god, but droves of walkers bumped mindlessly against it, ringing the farm two or three deep in places. Two of the panels near the gate were down, smouldering piles three feet high blocking the way through. A handful of half-roasted walkers writhed in the mess. Too dangerous to cross without getting bit or burnt. Michonne sliced her way through a handful of walkers and tried the gate, hissing when it refused to budge.

“Locked.” She whispered, turning back to take the reaching hands of a walker off at the elbows and stab it through the face.

Daryl growled and Rick grabbed his shoulder. “Up!” he demanded, pointing to the heavy-duty hinges on the other side. Daryl cocked an eyebrow at him but Rick just jumped, getting a boot wedged atop the first hinge and hauling himself up the fence like a squirrel. Once Daryl got the idea Rick felt his hand pushing up on the sole of his other boot, practically throwing him up towards the second hinge at the top hard enough to get him in range to grab hold. Michonne covered them while Rick flung his upper body over the top - glad that the gate didn’t have razor wire like the rest of the fence - and folded in half, his legs spilling over as he gripped the top in both hands and let himself drop. His still-healing calf flared in pain as he hit the ground but he ignored it and shoved the latch open, spinning back to the yard and pulling his gun as Daryl and Michonne came through behind him. They squeezed through and shut it tight.

More walkers were inside and Rick’s stomach hit the heels of his boots as he had a flash of black hair, a wild laugh. But it was just in his head and he shook it off, trying to keep in the here and now.

Inside the fence it was nearly silent. The house was dark but he could see figures on the roof, the glint of a gun scope in the gloom and broad shoulders against the starry sky. He slashed his way through the walkers to the porch, glad to see that the door was closed up tight and all the windows were intact. He slipped up the steps, squatting and peering over the nearest sill to try and get a look inside to the study where he’d first sat with Hershel. Nothing. Well that was better than a room full of bodies. He slid to the next window to find the living room empty, too. Michonne came up beside him and he shook his head, trying to ignore the churning of his gut. Carl. Lori. Sophia and Duane. Jesus. Michonne’s sword shone beside him in the moonlight. Merle Shane and Tyrese were still outside the wall but they’d shut the engines off. Daryl was checking bodies, stabbing them one after the other while Sasha scanned the yard with eagle-sharp eyes.

As Rick slunk off the porch something caught his ear. A click. A slow, deliberate click of a tongue. Carl. Oh, thank _Christ._ He froze, holding his hand out to the others to do the same. He listened. Three quick clicks in a row. They were alive. They were all alive. Jesus. The way the sound bounced around in the dark he couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from but he thought maybe up high. Maybe Carl was tucked up on the roof with whoever that was with the gun. Michonne reached out to touch Rick’s arm lightly and he could feel the relief rolling off her in waves. He let out a breath.

A soft whistle drifted down, a slow, dipping note. _Stay still._

Rick didn’t question it. He trusted his son. He held a hand out to Daryl, palm flat in the unmistakable gesture for _wait_. Even in the dark he could see the hunter frown but he slunk over to join Rick on the porch, squatting down beside him and loading another bolt. Michonne froze and Sasha scuttled to the porch to crouch in the shadow of the rail, rifle still held at the ready. The walkers groaned.

They waited in silence for a long time, for what, Rick had no idea. The walkers wandered aimlessly, some drawn back to the smouldering fence by the racket the half-charred ones were making and the dancing of the coals. Daryl’s breath was the only sound Rick could hear besides the walkers and the occasional thump of Sasha’s knife or snick of Michonne’s sword taking out one that got too close. Rick prayed Shane and Merle had the good sense to stay in the car with Tyrese and Andre while they waited for whatever Carl was looking for.

When it came it was pretty damn hard to miss.

A fizzing hiss, a flare of light, a crashing _boom!_

Fireworks. Someone was setting off fireworks. Rick felt Daryl jump beside him as the first one went off to the west, painting the darkness red and gold. Like a wave breaking every walker turned to stare at the shower of sparks in the sky, eyes and mouths gaping. Then, as the second and third went off, blue and silver pinwheels dancing in the darkness they began a slow, inexorable march. Rick felt a bit of the tension leave his chest watching the tide of walkers flow out of the hole in the fence. They were going.

In just a few minutes most of the herd had shifted, beginning to empty the yard and heading off down the road. Some bounced dumbly against the fence, trying to get through, but most followed the flow. Rick prayed Tyrese, Andre, Shane and Merle had covered the car windows and were tucked up safe.A handful of stragglers fumbled over the smoking bodies in the breech and just as Rick was starting to wonder if they’d have to risk trying to take them out in the dark one, a girl in a long, hippy-ish dress that trailed in tatters behind her, stepped onto the coals. Perhaps she had been mummified more than the others, her skin and muscle taking on that parchment-like quality that somehow was as disgusting as the half-jellied messes walkers sometimes became when they got stuck in a swamp. Or maybe it was just that stupid skirt, but for whatever reason she went up like a bonfire, a bright, blazing streak in the night.

“ _Shit_.” Rick hissed again as every dead eye left in the yard turned towards the girl. He could see heads turning outside the fence, too. Double shit. The fireworks were still coming, just one every minute or two, enough to keep the hoard’s attention but not when there was a pillar of fire stumbling around the gap in the fence. It tripped on something, bumping into the charred edge of the next panel and Rick clenched his teeth. If she set another panel alight the fireworks would be useless. He raised his python but the ball of flame was too bright for him to make out a head. Besides, the noise of the shot might trump the spectacle of the fire.

Shit, shit, shit.

They were losing their chance. He cast a desperate look around for anything that could put a stop to this. If the walkers would just follow the fireworks they could douse the burned panels and have a couple new ones up in just a few hours. It would give them a chance to take stock in relative safety. But if there was a damn beacon calling half the hoard back…

There was a thick, heavy quilt in the chair at the end of the porch where Anette liked to sit and Rick got an idea. A dumb-as-hell idea, he knew, but they were running out of time. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he snatched the blanket, hefted his hatchet and made a run for it. He heard a sharp curse behind him but ignored it, streaking past the shambling walkers towards the flaming girl. He hacked his way through the last few and ignored the heat that blistered the skin on his arms as he reached for her. This close it was easier, though the smell of burning flesh turned his stomach. One quick pump of his arm and the hatchet caught her in the head. She staggered, then crumpled in a heap on top of the reaching torso of a charred walker. But she kept burning. Of course she kept burning. Shit.

He flared the quilt out and let it drop over her, thinking bizarrely of that day at the fire station with Shane years and years ago, the firemen razzing the new deputies as they taught them the basics of emergency calls. He was snapped out of the memory as a bolt took down a walker reaching for his neck and the one beside it split in half around Michonne’s sword. He shot her a grateful glance in the quickly dying light. Without a word she gave him her back, a wide arc of her katana pushing back the next wave of walkers. Rick dove on top of the still corpse, pressing the blanket in and smothering the flame. He could feel the heat of her through it, smelled something acrid and sharp, but he ignored it, pressing down the edges of the blanket to keep any air from sneaking under. He beat at it with his fists, smothering the fire.

He couldn’t see, blinded by the walker-shaped afterglow in his retinas, but he heard another firework go off further away. A hand grabbed his arm, warm and living and rough, and yanked him back towards the house. Daryl. He heard Michonne’s sword still hard at work, clearing them a path back to the porch. He was slammed back against the house’s smooth siding, the wood cool through his shirt, and heard Daryl breathing too hard over him. Rick blinked, trying to clear the grotesque sunspot from his vision and focus.

“Y’bit?” Daryl grunted and Rick could hear the strain in his voice.

Rick gulped down the smoke-induced cough that threatened to break free and shook his head. “Nah.” The hunter’s presence beat back the panic Rick was choking on with his loss of vision. Even knowing it was temporary it still felt like a death sentence. Hands raked over his legs, his arms, checking to make sure.

“Jesus.” Daryl’s fingers pressed hard into Rick’s bicep. There was a touch at Rick’s hairline, a sweat-damp forehead pressing against his and the tickle of too-short hair on his skin. Daryl’s breath on his cheek.

“Daryl?” As Rick blinked again it was gone and he could just make out Daryl sliding away from him in the dark. Rick’s hand shot out, clamping around the hunter’s wrist but Daryl flinched and Rick let him go. 

“That was dumb.” Sasha whispered, appearing at Rick’s side and checking him over with gentle hands, too. It took Rick a second to register her rebuke.

“Michonne?” Rick asked, catching sight of her outline crouched at the porch steps.

“Fine.” She murmured.

He slumped back against the wall and listened to the fireworks growing more distant. As his vision returned and the sounds of the walkers faded he found himself stuck on that touch. For a second, a wild, hopeful second, he’d thought Daryl had remembered him. That sort of touch, the panic he could feel lacing the hunter’s breath, that wasn’t the Daryl from the start of all this. That was his best friend, his brother. But then Daryl had flinched and Rick’s belly had dropped again. It was like a great, empty hole had opened up in the middle of him as Daryl moved away and Rick clenched his teeth against it.

“Daryl,” Michonne whispered, “get up on that watch post and see if the herd’s far enough away.” Rick heard them both move and figured she must be going to one of the other ones to check.

“You alright?” Sasha murmured and Rick nodded, pushing whatever was going on in his chest aside.

“Yeah.” He grunted. “Can’t see too good yet.”

Sasha waved a hand in front of his face and he scowled at her. “Just light blind?” she guessed and he nodded. “Okay. What the hell made that thing go up like that?” she wondered aloud.

Rick scuffed a palm under his nose. He felt disgusting, like the ashes of all those bodies were stuck to his skin. He knew that was probably just his mind dealing with the horror of the half-burned corpses still grasping at nothing but he’d still be taking a shower as soon as it was safe. “She smelled like kerosene.” Rick told Sasha, pushing himself more upright against the wall. “Must have had some on her clothes or something.”

“That’ll do it.” Sasha agreed wryly. Rick nodded, looking away into the darkness to try and let his eyes adjust. He was just about back to normal when Michonne returned, walking casually through the last stragglers shambling around the lawn, slicing their heads off as they did.

“Herd’s headed out towards those firecrackers.” She murmured. “Last of them just went over the hill.”

“Good. Get that gate open and check on the others.” Rick told her and she nodded, heading off immediately. Daryl hadn’t returned from the fence yet and Rick tried to make out his shape atop the guard post.

Sasha stepped off the porch and called softly, “Should be okay to come down now.”

Rick heard scrambling from the roof and a window being opened, boots on the upper floor and someone running down the stairs. The locks on the front door were thrown and then there wasBeth, throwing a hug around Sasha’s shoulders and getting a startled laugh in return.

Carl followed her out, Morgan and Maggie hot on his heels. Morgan cast Rick a wild look and Maggie touched his arm, relief written all over her face.

“What happened here?” Rick demanded.

“A group showed up asking for shelter.” Carl told him, looking out over the yard. “Ten of them. Maggie told them we’d give them some supplies and fresh water but that they couldn’t come inside the fence. They didn’t think that was a fair deal, apparently.”

“They attacked?” Rick asked.

“Not immediately,” said Maggie. “We gave them some food and a couple jugs of water. That was about midday. They said they’d make a camp nearby and that maybe we could talk about joining up. I didn’t like the sound of it and posted double guards but I didn’t want to start anything before I was sure.”

Rick squeezed her hand where it still brushed his elbow. “Good,” he approved.

“As soon as it got dark they tried to get in. We got most of them down but then one of them threw a molitov at the fence. I guess if they couldn’t have it no one could.” She rolled her eyes. “All the commotion must have drawn the herd.”

“The fireworks?”

“Glenn’s idea.” Maggie smiled. “He and Carol threw a music box over the gate and snuck out over the back wall. Shawn had a stash from the fourth of July last year. Said to wait for the distraction on the roof and stay quiet.”

“It worked.” Rick said.

“Just hope they make it back okay.” Morgan said, chewing his lip.

“They will,” Maggie told him confidently. Rick had to agree. Glenn and Carol were good. Very, very good. They’d make it back okay.

“Well that was a hell of a welcome home party,” drawled Merle as he picked his way over the bodies near the gate. He, Shane, Tyrese and Michonne were coming in the gate, the road too littered with the dead for the cars to get through. Andre was strapped to Tyrese’s chest again and very quiet, just like Michonne had said.

When he caught sight of Michonne Carl hit a drop-dead sprint instantly, throwing his arms around Michonne’s waist with a joyful cry. She hugged him back, rocking from foot to foot as he cried into her tank top. Rick felt his own throat tightening at the reunion. Michonne and Carl had had a special bond, something close to a mother-son, or maybe older sister, little brother relationship. Carl respected her, loved her, and she had felt the same. Michonne was one of the few people in their family who right from the start had never treated Carl like a kid. Actually, Rick thought, she’d treated him exactly like a kid. She’d bartered for candy bars with found comic books, teased him and ganged up on Rick and the others with him. Rick had lost track of the number of times he’d caught the pair of them giggling stupidly together, playing silly games and somehow stealing moments here and there where Carl could really be a child. Her understanding of who Carl should have been allowed to be made it hit home when Michonne was the one to tell him to let the adults handle something. Rick would never be able to thank her for all she’d done for his son. Seeing them together again was… it was good.

“Hey, Carl.” She said softly, stroking a hand through his hair. “You got short.”

Carl snorted. “Yeah, and weak. Are you okay?”

She smiled wider. “I’m good. Come meet Andre.”

Carl turned wide eyes on the toddler on Tyrese’s chest and Rick could see tears sprouting in them. “Your son?” he breathed. He reached his small hand out to brush Andre’s cheek in wonder. The little boy giggled and gripped Carl’s pinkie.

“Hi!” he cooed.

“Oh I’m so glad you saved him.” Carl whispered. He leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss Andre’s cheek the way he had so many times with Judith and Rick’s heart stuttered knowing his son had gained another brother.

“Hi, Tyrese.” Carl grinned and the big man nodded to him, his easy smile unfolding.

“Hello.”

“Carol’s daughter is alive, too.” Carl told Michonne.

“Your dad told me.” she nodded. “And Morgan’s son.”

Carl nodded. “I’m teaching them to take care of themselves.”

Michonne kissed his forehead. “I’m proud of you.” She murmured. Carl hugged her again.

“ _Christ!”_ Rick’s head snapped around as he heard the hissed curse from inside.

“Andrea got shot,” Morgan told him and Rick blinked. “Nothing serious but Hershel’s cleaning it out now that the herd’s gone.”

Rick pushed into the house, sparing a glance for Amy, Shawn and Anette huddled on the stairs. They seemed okay, just shaken. He left them there and followed the clinking of glass into the sick room to find Andrea gripping the mattress in both hands with her shirt pulled up to show a bloody slice along her abdomen.

“Just a graze,” Hershel informed Rick, not looking up from his work, “but too easy to get infected if we don’t get it clean.” He tilted a bottle of hydrogen peroxide against a cloth and then pressed it to her side, drawing another string of curses from the blond.

“Language, missy!” Merle chided, striding in behind Rick with a grin on his face.

“Fuck you, Dixon!” Andrea snapped, clearly glad to have someone to hurl abuse at who wasn’t in the middle of trying to help her.

“Oh, that an offer, Blondie?” Merle cocked an eyebrow. “Can’t say I ain’t been waitin’ on it.”

Despite the pain Andrea laughed.

“Anyone else hurt?” Rick asked and Hershel shook his head.

“Just a few bumps and bruises. Nothing too bad, considering.”

Thank god for that, Rick thought. “The prison’s ready. The Governor doesn’t seem to remember. We’ll move as soon as we can. All in one go. We can’t risk splitting up again with the fence compromised.”

Hershel just nodded as he stuck some butterfly bandages across Andrea’s ribs.

Andrea looked up, opening her mouth as if to say something but then she froze. Her eyes slid over Rick’s shoulder and it was like someone had pressed pause on her world. Rick turned to see Michonne in the doorway, Andre on her hip and Merle lurking behind her.

“M-Michonne?” Andrea stuttered as Hershel placed the last bandage. He gently tugged her shirt back down as Andrea shifted forward.

“Hey, Andrea.” Michonne said softly.

Andre pointed his chubby fist and babbled, “Look! The pretty lady, momma!”

That seemed to break Andrea’s spell. “Michonne!” she gripped the edge of the bed, falling forward over her lap and gulping air down into her chest like she was starving for it. Michonne handed Andre to Rick and dropped to her knees beside the bed, taking Andrea’s hand in one of hers and gently pushing her cheek with the other until they were face-to-face. “Hey, Andrea, everything’s okay. Stay with me, okay?”

“Are they alright?” Andrea stared at her, her eyes glazing for a moment. “Carl and Judith? Are they okay?” Rick was rocketed back to those last moments with her in Woodbury, the fever crowding her eyes as she begged to know about the kids, about their family. _I just didn’t want anyone to die._

“They’re fine.” Michonne told her. “They’re here with us.” Rick supposed that was technically true. Judith was on her way, at least.

“Michonne.” Andrea repeated. They stared at each other for a long time, the room silent around them. And then Andrea blinked and her eyes cleared and she was herself again. She looked around, taking in Rick and Merle still standing by the door, Hershel on his stool beside the bed. “Holy _fuck,_ is that what you’ve been talking about, Rick? That was… that sucked!” Rick chuckled but then the penny dropped and Andrea leapt to her feet. “Amy!” She pushed past Rick, catching sight of her sister where she sat on the stairs. “Jesus Christ, Amy!” she sobbed, catching her little sister up in her arms and holding on tight. Ugly, tight sobs shook her body as Amy petted her hair and shushed her.

“The pretty lady got sad.” Andre told Rick sagely and Rick chuckled.

“No, Peanut.” Michonne told him, petting his hair and smiling at Rick. “The pretty lady is just very happy.”


	18. Like Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! A slightly shorter chapter but a quicker update than last time to balance it out. I hope you like it. I’m loving all the feedback on this piece so far so thank you all so much.

They got the fence patched in just a few hours, only having to wait long enough for the herd to be out of earshot of hammer strikes to get started. Shane, Merle and Hershel led the others in taking down the damaged panels and putting up a few new ones. The stacks of spares in the barn were easy enough to move with all the extra hands. They had to skirt the still-smouldering coals but in the end they managed well enough. T-Dog took Tyrese and Daryl out to shovel dirt onto the coals in an effort to snuff out the last of them and Rick, Maggie and Michonne made a sweep to make sure all the walkers left scattered around the perimeter were well and truly dead. They’d have to drag the bodies away in the morning but Rick wasn’t about to have them doing it in the middle of the night. They could hear the fireworks for another few hours, just a faint glow past the horizon signalling which direction they were moving. With any luck by daybreak the herd would be far enough away and Glenn and Carol could turn back to the farm.

As Rick paced through the tall grass he had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the ground, searching for skeletal hands and gnashing teeth instead of Daryl’s profile against the glowing embers. Whatever that had been on the porch it had shaken the hunter, Rick could see. The tight set of his jaw, the bunching of his shoulders told Rick that Daryl was royally pissed off. For the first half hour after it all happened Rick had watched him closely, trying to make sure the hunter wasn’t on the verge of remembering it all and going off the deep end. Rick didn’t care if he had to knock Daryl unconscious and tie him to a chair; the hunter would not be harming himself if - when, Rick corrected himself sternly - he finally remembered them all. But while Daryl stomped around the yard like a pissy toddler he didn’t make any move to hurt himself or anyone else. He seemed perfectly lucid. He was, however, throwing death glares at Rick every time he caught him looking. Rick tried to give the hunter some mental space and focus on the tasks at hand.

They’d have to move. Immediately. Distracting the herd like that would draw too much unwanted attention from the living, and as much as Beth had managed to fortify this place it was still too easy to infiltrate. Or just plain destroy. Once Glenn and Carol got back Rick would have to take someone and run out to find trucks big enough to move the majority of their supplies in one go. He wasn’t going to separate them again. They’d been damn lucky that nothing worse than Andrea’s ribs had gotten bloodied tonight.

As he closed the gate behind him, confident that all the bodies outside were well and truly dead, he caught sight of the blond on the porch, taking a cup of tea from Anette where she’d set up a table. The kids were all piled together on a mattress under the porch’s wide roof. They’d all been too scared or wired to try and sleep upstairs away from all the adults after the night’s events, so Carl and Duane had dragged the mattress down so they could keep an eye on things. Rick smiled as he climbed the steps to find that aside from Andre they were all fast asleep. Andre sat on Anette’s knee in her chair and as Rick came up to touch his soft hair Anette smiled up at him.

“Sorry about your quilt.” Rick murmured, getting a smile from the old woman.

“Now, don’t you worry about that.” She told him and bounced Andre on her knee. “That quilt was my grandmother’s. She always said it was a piece of her love to wrap myself in. Well, I think she’d be damned proud to know her quilt saved us all.” Rick smiled. The more he got to know Anette the clearer it became how Beth had grown into one of the sweetest people he’d ever met.

“Rick,” Andrea croaked. He looked up to find her hands going white around her tea cup, eyes fixed on the rising steam.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm. He hadn’t had the chance to speak with her since she’d remembered. There’d just been too much to do.

“Michonne said… she told me she killed Phillip - the Governor,” she corrected herself with a quick shake of her head. Phillip. Rick couldn’t ignore the bubble of rage floating in his throat at the name. That man had been a monster. Insane. And somehow he’d charmed Andrea right out of their family and into his bed. Rick was a little surprised to find that years later that still hurt.

“Not before he killed Hershel,” Rick told her and she cringed. He knew he was being too harsh, that he should soften his tone. She had been trying her best, trying to broker peace. But she hadn’t trusted their family and she’d been wrong and it had cost them Hershel’s life. So many other lives, too. They’d lost dozens when the prison fell, children.

“I wanted to say thanks,” Andrea said, staring at Shane as he was bracing the last fence panel. Rick tilted his head at her and she glanced at the python where it slept on his hip. “Letting me do it myself, giving me your gun for that. That was… a big deal to me,” she said.

Rick could only nod. It was strange, that feeling, when weapons became gestures of love and respect.

“I know you’re angry at me,” she said softly and a wave of guilt crashed into him. They had her back. He should be grateful. She’d been doing her best, just like the rest of them. How many terrible decisions had he made along the way to losing the prison? At least as many as she had. “I’m angry at myself.”

“I’m not angry,” he lied and she levelled a glare at him.

“Rick, come on,” she scoffed. “I was _literally_ sleeping with the enemy!”

He had to chuckle at that. “We’ve all messed up a time or ten,” he allowed and tried to let the anger slide away. “Besides, your taste in men seems to be improving.” He nodded at Merle where he was dragging a few bodies out of the way of the gates.

Andrea shuddered. “Merle _Dixon!_ ” she said and her voice held a level of contempt that stung even Rick.

“Hey,” he said sharply, catching her surprised look, “what happened to ‘this man is a veteran and has kept us all alive’?”

Andrea dropped her eyes to her cup. “I think it went out the window when I remembered how many times he called me ‘Sugar tits’.” She decided and Rick snorted. She gave him a shaky smile and sipped her tea.

“He’s trying.” Rick told her. “Hell, more than trying. I couldn’t believe it when he said he’d turned over a new leaf but he’s proven it. If you are allowed to learn from the mistakes you made in a past life, shouldn’t he be?”

Andrea pursed her lips, watching the older Dixon as he grinned at T-Dog and slapped the man’s arm. T-Dog chuckled at whatever Merle had said and Rick shook his head, still surprised by that friendship. “We all gotta be.” He sighed and his eyes slid to Shane.

“I don’t…” Andrea shook her head in frustration. “How the hell did you get your head around this?”

Rick sighed. “I’ve learned a couple things over the last decade, chief among them that you gotta pay attention to the here and now and work with what you got. I realized I’d been given a shot at makin’ things go right. Or at least a little less wrong. I’m takin’ it.”

Andrea studied him for a long moment, a tiny smile quirking her mouth. “You may be the most practical man I’ve ever met, you know that?”

Rick laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one,” she told him.

“Anyone need breakfast?” Lori pushed through the front door with a tray of biscuits, jam and fruit in hand. Rick gave her a quick once over and was glad to see that the excitement of the night hadn’t taken too much of a toll. “It’s a little early.” She shrugged, and looked to the sliver of blue just beginning to glow in the east. “but I figure everyone could use a blood sugar boost after the night we’ve had.”

“I don’t think my stomach cares how early it is.” Andrea said, helping herself.

“I’ll go see if they need a hand finishing the fence.” Rick said, touching a grateful palm to Lori’s elbow. She gave him a nod and set the tray down beside Anette’s teapot.

Rick grabbed one of Anette’s cloth napkins from the tray, loading a couple biscuits and apples onto it and nodding once more at the old lady. She gave him a smile and turned her attention to Andre who was trying to make a grab for a biscuit.

“Would you like one, Peanut?” she cooed.

“Yes, please!”

Rick headed to the fence just as Hershel was dropping his hammer to the loop in his pants, rubbing at his wrists that must be aching by now.

“Lori’s got food up if y’all are hungry,” he said and Hershel nodded.

“This should hold for now,” the old vet said, tapping his knuckles on the panel. “But that was a close call. I had Shawn start on a packing list yesterday. As soon as we get some food in our bellies we’ll get back on it and make sure everything’s organized for a quick exit.”

“Don’t forget to catch a few hours sleep.” Rick warned and Hershel smiled. He clapped Rick’s shoulder in acknowledgement and headed off toward the house, gathering his tools as he went.

“How’s the hand?” Rick asked Shawn, watching the boy rubbing at the bandage over his missing fingers. Shawn glanced up, surprised to be noticed, and shrugged.

“Oh, it’s okay.” He said, looking anywhere but Rick’s face.“Itches like crazy right now.”

Rick nodded. “I’m sure Hershel’s been on you about keeping it clean, right?”

Shawn grimaced. “Like a dog on a rabbit.” He complained. “Uh… I didn’t get a chance… um. Thanks for this.” He raised the bandaged hand and waved it at Rick and Rick felt something in his belly flop over. He’d saved the kid’s life but it still felt odd to be thanked for mutilating someone. So he just nodded and Shawn blushed and turned to follow Hershel.

“You gonna get that looked at?” Shane asked, pointing to Rick’s arm. Rick looked down to find the skin all along his forearms blistered raw. He frowned. Now that he was paying attention it stung like hell but he was sure he’d forget about it again soon enough. There was too much to do for discomfort to get in the way. They weren’t bad enough to really being worrying too much about infection and he had seen some burn cream in the sick room.

“I’ll get it cleaned up in a minute.” He shrugged and Shane frowned at him. Rick changed the subject. “You get a good look at those guys yesterday?”

Shane scratched at the back of his neck. “Seemed normal,” he shrugged. “Just a bunch of survivors like us. Maggie said she got a weird feelin’ from ‘em, though.”

“Maggie’s good with that sort of thing. She ever tells you not to trust someone, you listen.”

Shane frowned, scuffing his boot in the torn-up grass. “Killed a couple of ‘em.” He muttered and Rick winced. Shane may have played a bit fast and loose with the rules as a deputy, may have been a bit more prone to using force than Rick had, but he’d never been truly violent. Killing would still tear him up. Had, when he remembered how much of it he’d done before the end.

“It gets easier,” Rick said and Shane’s glare snapped up.

“It ain’t supposed to get _easier!”_ he snarled.

“But it will, anyway,” Rick sighed. Shane’s nostrils flared but he kept himself in check. Rick could see the way his fists were clenching that he wanted to throw a punch but he didn’t. “You protected our family. That’s all that matters now,” Rick told him and swung an arm at the porch. “And if you need any proof of that go on up there and take a look at the people who are alive now because those assholes are dead.”

Shane glanced to where Lori and Andrea were sharing a smile, Hershel and Anette tickling Andre, Amy and Shawn sitting hip-to-hip on the steps and drinking from the same mug of tea.

“Go on,” Rick prodded gently. “Get some food. Get yourself right. We’ll be moving soon and there’ll be plenty of time on the road if you need to talk shit out.”

Shane gave him a tight nod and moved away while Rick headed for the gate. T-Dog, and Merle had noticed the food and already made a beeline for the porch and Beth threw Rick a wave from the platform closest to the gate. He smiled as he returned it. Michonne had taken up post on the south platform and Rick made a quick circuit of the fence.

“Everything good up there?” he called softly and Michonne whistled down the all clear. He didn’t push it, knowing she must be exhausted physically and emotionally after everything that had happened in the last 12 hours and that she rarely had an appetite when she was tired. So instead of climbing the ladder he continued on, eventually making it all the way around to the north side of the fence. He tucked the ends of the napkin pouch he’d made into his pocket and climbed the rope ladder, poking his head up over the edge to find Daryl standing with his crossbow at his side, looking out over the fields.

Without a word Rick hauled himself up, coming to stand a few inches from Daryl’s side and leaning his elbows on the top of the fence. He picked the napkin from his pocket and flipped the edges open, silently offering Daryl some of the food. The hunter glanced down and just when Rick thought he would refuse his stomach gave a loud growl. Rick chuckled and Daryl shot him a glare.

“G’on,” Rick told him and grabbed one of the biscuits for himself. They were still warm and he bit into it gratefully, ignoring the weight of Daryl’s gaze on the side of his face. They ate, only the soft sounds of their family on the porch drifting up to fill the silence. When they were finished Rick carefully folded the napkin and as he slid it into his pocket his fingers brushed something.

He huffed. Daryl glanced up as Rick pulled the packet of cigarettes he’d found in Sasha’s root cellar from his pocket and held them up.

“Figured you would want first crack at these,” Rick explained, holding them out. “Before Merle got his hands on ‘em.”

Daryl stared at the packet for a long moment. “Y’don’t want ‘em?” he asked finally and Rick could hear the careful distance in his tone. Rick sighed. He’d still been hoping that maybe Daryl had remembered.

“Nah.” He shrugged it away. “Don’t smoke. Ran track in school and never wanted to risk gettin’ caught and thrown off the team. By the time I graduated I was on my way to bein’ a dad and was spendin’ too much money on diapers and formula to afford smokes. Lori would have killed me.” Daryl scoffed and turned the packet over in his hands. Rick remembered Daryl telling him once that he’d started smoking at thirteen. It still made Rick’s chest ache to think about Daryl back then. Daryl gave Rick a funny look as he sighed and Rick just let him. Finally, Daryl tore off the plastic and carefully unfolded the lip of the box, pulling out a cigarette and staring at it like he thought it might tell him its life story.

“You okay?” Normally Rick wouldn’t have asked. If it had been his Daryl standing here, his brother, then he wouldn’t have needed to. Daryl would either talk or he wouldn’t, knowing that Rick was there either way. But this Daryl didn’t know that and Rick wanted him to.

Daryl shrugged, fiddling with the cigarette as he tucked the rest of the pack into a pocket in his cargo pants. Rick made a mental note that they’d need to find the hunter a decent pair of jeans that wouldn’t snag on every damn thing when they had the chance. His boots were looking pretty worn through, too. Rick tried to remember if he’d picked up a pair of size ten-and-a-halfs anywhere. If not he was sure Sasha would have some stashed away.

“You always go running inta fires like that?” Daryl asked at last, bringing Rick back to the present. He raised the unlit cigarette to his lip and let it catch on the skin there, his thumbs stroking over the filter like he was soothing an animal.

Rick chuckled. “Only when I have to.” He admitted. “Thanks for pullin’ me outta there.”

“Tsk.” Daryl put the cigarette to his lips and produced a lighter from somewhere, flicking it a few times before he got it to light. Rick added lighters to the mental list of things Daryl needed. He was pretty sure Hershel had some squirrelled away and just as sure Daryl would never ask for one of their supply for something as frivolous as smoking. In all the years on the road he’d only ever used banged up old bics or boxes of half-rotted matches he’d found for his rare stale cigarettes, never the heavy duty lighters they kept for fires.

Daryl took a long, slow drag and Rick smiled at the relief that settled over his face. He watched the smoke curl out around Daryl’s thin upper lip, pluming out of his nostrils in the darkness. There was something about the way Daryl did this, the way he just let the smoke float out of him instead of blowing it away, that had always made Rick think of birds. White wings splayed across his shoulders and smoke drifting like feathers across his lips. And on those cold morning watches when Daryl hadn’t found a cigarette in six months sometimes he would turn his head just so and the arc of vapour from his lips was like the arc of a hawk’s wing, hunting.

“You remember dyin’?” Daryl asked and Rick blinked.

Rick nodded and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he croaked.

“How’d ya go?”

Rick ran a hand through his curls. Why was Daryl asking him this? “Bit.” He said. _A lot_ , echoed his memory. _Dumb sonovabitch._

Daryl turned, putting his cigarette back to his mouth. The glow of the cherry flared in his narrow eyes and Rick couldn’t look away. “Ain’t ya learned yer lesson?” he demanded and Rick couldn’t help it, he barked a laugh.

“I’m not lookin’ to repeat it any time soon, if that’s what you’re askin’.” He said. Daryl’s fingers clenched around the filter.

“It ain’t funny.” He snapped. “You do some dumb-fuck thing like that again an’…” he trailed off, taking a vicious drag in through his teeth.

“An’ what?” Rick challenged. The hunter had to know that Rick wasn’t risking his life for the thrill of it, right? It had been the only way to keep Glenn and Carol’s whole plan from falling apart. If half that herd had stayed they’d have been trapped on the roof and Glenn and Carol would have returned to a lot of dead bodies.

Daryl growled and flicked his ash off the edge of the fence. “Fuck you.” He swore in a cloud of smoke.

“Daryl,” Rick reached out to drop a hand on Daryl’s shoulder but Daryl slapped him away and stumbled back.

“Don’t fuckin’ _touch me!”_ he hissed and the anger from before was back, rage boiling just under the surface.

“Okay,” Rick said, calmly spreading his hands. “Okay.”

Daryl’s chest was heaving, the cigarette dying forgotten between his fingers. He shoved his free hand through his short hair and clenched his eyes shut, clearly struggling with himself. Rick just waited. “Don’t.” Daryl choked at last. “Don’t go doin’ stupid shit like that.” He said and turned his face back to the fields. Rick saw his hand shaking as he raised his cigarette and flicked the lighter again. Rick watched him smoke, refusing to make a promise he knew he couldn’t keep. He would do whatever it took to keep the rest of them going, and if that was putting himself in front of the firing squad so be it.

When the cigarette was down to the filter and barely glowing between Daryl’s thick fingers he finally spoke again. “Y’said I didn’t… I was still alive when ya died.” 

Rick nodded.

“How’d ya know that?” Daryl asked.

Rick closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the fence. He didn’t want Daryl to remember that part, watching them all die, having to go on alone. “You were there.” He murmured. “At the end. I saw the others go down. Never saw you. And then you were there. Found me. Right before…”

Daryl’s head sagged on his neck and he reached down to pull another smoke from his pocket. He lit up and drew a shuddering inhale. “I dunno what’s happenin’.” He said so softly Rick barely made out the words.

“You remember it?” Rick asked and Daryl shook his head. Rick tried not to let his shudder of disappointment show. He didn’t want Daryl remembering that, but…

“Nah. Don’t remember. Still think yer all off yer damn rockers but… that…” Daryl gestured towards the newly repaired fence where Rick had needed rescuing, “Ya ran in there and I thought…” he chewed on his thumb, the cherry dancing in front of his shadowed face to the rhythm of his teeth.

“You got scared.” Rick realized. Daryl’s chin dipped lower and Rick knew he was right. Daryl, this Daryl, this young, angry version of the man who had become one of the central pillars in Rick’s life, he wasn’t used to being scared. Not for some random cop he barely knew. But something in him _must_ remember, something deep down that told him this was his family and he couldn’t lose them. That something was screaming at him in the aftermath of Rick’s risky play. The hole in Rick’s belly felt a little less empty as he let that thought sink in.

“When Otis pointed that gun at your head,” he said softly and the smoke from Daryl’s lips stuttered as his breath caught, “I panicked.” It was easy to admit it. Daryl didn’t say anything and Rick settled back against the fence. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to find a way to explain. “Didn’t even think, just shot him. Because there was no way I was losin’ you. And when he was down and I realized I’d killed him I didn’t care because you were still there. I just… I needed to be sure you were still there. S’why I tried to grab you like that. The life we’ve led? Well we’ve spent a hell of a lot of time nearly dyin’. And sometimes it’s just too damn close. Sometimes I can shrug it off and chalk it up to you being just a tough son of a bitch too stubborn to quit but sometimes… sometimes I just gotta know you’re still here. Just be sure. An’ sometimes you needed the same.”

He remembered Daryl’s fingers in his hair after that run into Bathesda, when Rick had fallen through the rotted out floor of a warehouse and broken three ribs. Daryl’s hand against his cheek when Rick had gotten lost in that blizzard and nearly frozen to death. How many times had teeth grazed his skin, bullets nearly parted his hair? Some calls were closer than others and Rick could recall a dozen times off the top of his head when he’d just needed to _touch._ Just feel Daryl’s heartbeat or the warmth of him and be absolutely sure he was still alive. Even if Daryl didn’t remember something in him still needed that reassurance. And that must be freaking him out even more.

“I ain’t gonna apologize for that,” Rick nodded at the mended fence, “because we had to do something and it worked. But I get why you’re pissed. The thought of losin’ you scares me to death, too.” Daryl scowled down at the edge of the fence and ripped at his thumb with his teeth. He didn’t argue, though, didn’t posture and bluff his way out of the emotional crap like Rick knew he was used to doing at this age. When Rick finally laid a hand on his shoulder Daryl flinched but didn’t pull out from under it. “All I can say is,” Rick murmured, “I know I’ve got to try and stay alive for all of you, same as you’ve got to for me. I ain’t ever gonna forget that.”

Daryl chewed his thumb. Rick watched him and felt the warmth of him under his palm.

“A’right.” The hunter murmured.


End file.
